


Scarazial

by Hecallsmehischild



Series: The Resilience Saga [5]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Possession, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 47,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecallsmehischild/pseuds/Hecallsmehischild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Resilience Saga, story 5. Scarazial: scar-ah-zee-al. To be torn apart. Separation. To split off into various factions. To find oneself facing someone, who was once an ally, as an enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bells Toll For Thee

White. It seemed the wrong color. Black was more appropriate, or some ugly, dark color. Not white.

Gloria stood, motionless at the giant oak doors, soon to swing open and reveal the huge arena before her. The ritual for Irken bonding, inherently simple, had already been met. Earth governments, once they grasped the precariousness of the situation, demanded their own customs fulfilled as well, with a wedding. And since it was a wedding that would ensure the survival of the planet, a massive arena had been constructed, to hold dignitaries from every land. Cameras from every angle would broadcast the ceremony to any not fortunate enough to be among the world's most influential and elite.

She would walk past a host of people she did not know, in a half-mile procession across the floor of the arena, down an aisle that was nearly a hiking trail. At the end of the aisle, she would be declared the wife of the Irken leader, Almighty Tallest Red, by the authorities of Earth.

She'd awoken in a soft, white bed, held down by all too familiar straps. She had begun screaming, hoping to wake up in the comfort of her own bed. All around her, Irken heads scrambled, trying to calm her, inject her, feed her something in a panic. A harsh word from the doorway scattered them, and long, armored arms reached into her vision to loosen the straps.

Immediately, she'd fled to the farthest corner of the room, curled in on herself, cowering. The silence stretched out, interrupted only by her gasps of air.

Nothing happened. No hands were laid on her, no claws raking her skin, no sudden darkness swallowing her sight. She shifted her head slightly, so she could see around the arm she'd curved over her head.

The drones in the room stood where they were, in awkward anxiety. Red stood by the medical bed she had vacated. He hadn't moved an inch. He merely looked at her, his face unreadable. On eye contact with her, he had finally spoken.

"Sempadinum has been formed." He spoke with authority. "Earth is now under the protection of Irk. We are currently in discussions with your," he shifted, "Multiple governments." He sounded perplexed at this, but moved on. "Your new station as co-ruler affords you all the protection Irk can offer… and no one can lay hand on you without your express permission."

It was the way he emphasized "no one" that gave her pause, calmed her trembling slightly. Then he had turned, and left the room.

She had not seen him again since then. All her needs had been attended to by drones, and occasionally a slightly higher ranking Irken would inform her of the ongoing discussions between the governments. The news was often delivered with confusion at how even small details took so much time and discussion, and at the sheer number of governments involved in the proceedings. She had laughed some at this, but the laugh rang hollow, and turned to tears.

The drones had swarmed her, asking if she was alright, was she hurt, and could they get her anything? She had screamed at them to leave. They had never so much as looked at her when she had begged for help before, she didn't want them now.

As they left, a shadow in the corner of the room moved, and slid over to her side, forming up under her arm. Gloria didn't say anything, just picked Gaz up into her arms and held her tightly. She'd known Gaz would come in time. After a few moments, Gaz had slipped away from Gloria, back to the corner, where she took up her post as a shadow for the wardrobe, watching.

The governments bickered and dithered for a few days, until Red had lost patience. He had, he reminded them, the ability to wipe all of them out, so they had better come to an agreement and soon so that they could settle down for a peaceable intergalactic treaty. This had decided them rather quickly, and two weeks from the appearance of Irken ships in the sky, the wedding was held.

And so, she stood there, dressed in white, her purple hair braided and hanging down the back. Her eyes stared at the door blankly, as she heard the music cue their opening. She would endure the processional. She would endure the ceremony. And when he kissed her, as custom declared, she would not faint.

Fainting was for the fearful. And when one was stone, there was no need for fear.


	2. The Road To Hell

It was difficult for Zim to imagine a more uncomfortable situation than the one he was currently witnessing.

Weddings in general made little to no sense to him. He had managed to wrap his mind around the concept of two humans joining together to create more humans, and that this was generally a desirable thing. It was desirable for the continuation of the species, but somehow it was also something sought after for the mutual support of two humans struggling together through life, who no longer wished to do so alone.

That much made sense. What didn't make sense was a ceremony. Was there really a need for such a proceeding? Why didn't they just find a dwelling together once they'd decided on their union, and that was it? But then, there were many things about humans that he still didn't understand.

But this wedding in particular was most uncomfortable, for many reasons. He watched, silently, as the huge wooden doors at the end of the arena swung open. His superior eyes focused on the form barely visible in the open space of the doorway. He and Dib had been afforded front row seats, as Zim's status had risen from refugee to Irken Cultural Advisor to Earth, and Dib's had risen alongside. Still diplomat for Zim's outbursts of frustration.

Dib had not spoken to him since he had conveyed their mother to the Massive. Zim sensed an underlying resentment and anger from him, but hadn't had time to address it. He'd been inundated with frantic requests from the government to tell them everything he knew, whatever knowledge could keep them from getting wiped out.

And there she was, taking her first steps down the walk. The reason why Earth was not getting wiped out.

He turned his head slightly, glancing up at Tallest Red. Only a few feet away, standing at attention on the platform in front of him, his Tallest had returned to wearing his armor. His face was expressionless, his eyes trained only on the small figure at the beginning of the pathway.

Zim knew, Red would never harm Gloria again. He couldn't, he'd changed too much. But humans had lengthy memories, morflars even longer, and both held grudges and pain close, save in rare cases. He could explain to Dib and Gaz, and even Gloria why Gloria would find no safer place in the universe at this point than by Red's side as much as he wanted, but they wouldn't hear him.

So he kept quiet, and watched the proceedings, a sinking feeling in his spooch, wishing he knew how to fix everything.

…

_Stupid Zim._

Dib's face had been fixed in a near-perpetual scowl since the news had come back to him that his Mom had successfully made it to the Massive, and saved the world.

_STUPID Zim._

It was completely irrational. He knew that. He knew it hadn't been Zim's decision to go back, nobody had forced his Mom. But still, she couldn't have meant it! And Zim just up and took her, like she didn't mean anything, like she was just a means to an end. And even if that end WAS saving everyone else, he knew just one family had been on Zim's mind.

_STUPID ZIM._

He wondered bitterly if their Mom even meant anything at all to Zim, or if she was just some abstract concept to the alien, who had already cemented another human in her place. Some small thought continued reminding him how unfair and irrational he was being, but it was drowned out rather quickly by the stream of furious obscenities that raged in his mind whenever he caught sight of Tallest Red out of the corner of his eye.

It was some small expression of his disgust, that he refused to look directly at the Irken leader. He hoped, with every fiber of his being, that the monster knew it too.

…..

Nobody saw Gaz, and that's exactly how she wanted it.

Her seat at the wedding had never been claimed, so it had been hastily given to a last-minute diplomat on the waiting list. She didn't mind, she'd never had need of it. She had never intended to sit in the front row. She was going to make a statement, and she was going to make sure Red knew exactly where she stood on the subject.

Nobody saw Gaz as Gloria stood at the doors. Someone may have, if they were looking hard enough, noticed that Gloria's shadow flickered briefly as it swelled, as if absorbing another shadow. Within seconds, however, it settled down again to mirror Gloria's form, and as the doors opened and she began to move down the aisle, so did her shadow. Like any other shadow.

It wasn't right. It shouldn't be happening. Everything had spun out of control, ever since that stupid Zim had made his stupid deals and hadn't just left like she'd told him.

But it went back farther, didn't it?

She should have insisted, driving Zim away through fear and intimidation and not caving to his demands.

She should have killed Red on the spot, not just eaten him. If she'd killed him, none of this would be happening.

She should have smelled Irken all over Dib the day their mother disappeared and traced it back to its source, but she was in too much shock.

And it all led to today, shadowing her mother as she walked the aisle. The shadow shuddered with a suppressed, bitter laugh at a thought.

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions. And she's the one that has to walk it._

…..

_Do not feel._

Not a twitch. Not a stray blink. Not one facial spasm. Nothing can show.

They were watching. Not just the humans, his empire. This ceremony was being broadcast to all of Irk through the Massive's transmission system, and on through the PAKs of all off-planet Invaders as well. All would know of this union, all would understand its significance.

And if he showed a fraction of what was going on inside his chest, they would know something was wrong. That something was broken in his PAK, and that he needed to be repaired. Reformed into the mold he'd been forced into. His mind broken so his filter could be fixed. And that could not happen.

He watched the form in white walking down the aisle, her flat expression a perfect mirror of his own. What was she feeling? Was it worse than the twisting and churning in his gut, the mix of shame and admiration, anxiety and anticipation?

As the minutes ticked by, and she still remained in the distance, Red began to feel another emotion. It was a more familiar one, slightly burning, and hot. It grew a little as he realized she was meant to walk the entire distance up to him. It burned as he realized the aisle seats were crowded with media-drones, flashing cameras and recording every step of the way, and that the path had been made so long because of the sheer number of "important people" there to watch.

As if this day wasn't difficult enough already. No, he did not need to know what she was thinking. She'd made it perfectly clear the moment he'd unstrapped her from her bed in the med-bay aboard the Massive. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible, and this union was for the sole purpose of saving her planet.

He did not blame her. If anything, he wondered at her. Over the course of his short time as her servant, he had come to realize how much bravery she was capable of. Not the sort of bravery to take up a blaster and charge into battle, but a much different kind. The kind that endures, and heals, and moves forward after terrible things.

That he was the cause of some of those terrible things drove a knife into his spooch. He could almost hear the cries of his own Maneem as he recalled the cries of the human female walking toward him. Gloria, he had to become used to calling her that.

Abruptly, he left his place on the platform. Earth custom be flirked, she shouldn't have to walk the whole way. The crowd murmured, and several officials shifted uneasily. He strode toward her, tempering his anger and matching her even strides, so as to not appear threatening. Her steps slowed, uncertainly, but then picked up again.

His steps were longer, and though she had started first, they met toward the middle. He stood there, patiently waiting as the officiator huffed down the path behind him, and stood there, coat askew from running.

Something caught his eye, and he glanced down behind Gloria. Her shadow stared back at him, red eyes glaring from the silhouetted head. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but he kept his face still. Slowly, he dipped his head, silently acknowledging Gaz's presence, and its intended meaning. The eyes vanished, though the shadow stayed, silent and watchful.

He raised his eyes to Gloria's as the officiator rambled off his scripted words. Red responded when prompted, and placed a metal band on Gloria's finger. He noted a band already present there. He decided on asking someone later what the significance of these bands was in the first place, and what it meant that she already had one. Maybe at the same time he told her about the mechanism built into hers. He allowed her to place one on his claw as well.

"By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Red had been told of this, and shown footage of how it was done. He was able to mimic it, but he understood some serious significance lay in the pressing of lips together that he did not yet understand. Placing the metal band that he did not understand was one thing, but touching her in a way he did not understand… he had already done so, and it had caused terrible things.

So, he leaned down carefully, closing the height gap between them, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was not Earth custom, he had been shown what Earth custom was. But he was Almighty Tallest Red, commander of a thousand Irken fleets. Who was going to stop him?


	3. Discussions in the Dark

It was a private lounge on the Massive to which Gloria withdrew after the ceremony. She had heard rumblings of a reception, but those plans had been squelched by Tallest Red, who declared that the strange ceremony had gone on long enough and there was no need to make a further show of it.

While she felt a touch of gratitude that she didn't have to parade longer in front of strangers and cameras, dread also began working its way through her defenses. Now she would have to face him. Talk to him. Discuss the situation, and find out exactly where he stood on it.

She'd asked a passing drone if there was any kind of private room she could relax in, and the drone had nodded vigorously, leading her to a door painted purple. She wouldn't have given the color of the door a second thought, if she hadn't noticed the shift in shade. She knew of Tallest Purple, had heard him on occasion in her captivity. She had even seen him once before her eyes had been gouged out, and she knew the shade he used to be a deeper tone than the one currently covering the door. On a whim, she took a handful of her hair, and placed it against the door.

Perfect match.

Uneasy, she looked for a knob, finding none. "Can you open this please?" She asked.

The drone shifted. "No my Tallest, only you can. The palmlock is coded for your hand." He gestured at the panel beside the door.

She stiffened. "I am not a Tallest." She said tersely.

The drone's eyes widened in panic. "Please accept my apologies!" He pleaded. "It is what Tallest Red instructed us to address you as, until he had the chance to discuss your new title with you later, please don't throw me out the airlock!"

She stared at him. Of course drones would be thrown out the airlock for minor mistakes, why should she have expected any differently? Quietly she responded, "There will be no more throwing anyone out of any airlocks." Turning to the door, she pressed her hand against the panel, entering as the door slid aside. It closed with a click behind her, and she took in her surroundings.

An easel stood in the corner, with a large canvas already propped up on it. A stool had been placed in front of it, and one or two stuffed chairs sat nearby. All along the wall were shelves loaded with all kinds of supplies. She crossed to them, running her hands over the items. Oils, acrylics, watercolors, pastels, charcoal, even gouache. There were brushes of every size and shape. Scissors, rulers, compasses, pencils and erasers. There was a stack of canvases leaning against the near wall, and a pile of sketchbooks.

On the other side of the room, a small rosebush in a pot sat under a sunlamp.

He had already been here.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, absently stroking the brushes, her mind churning, but she came to herself with a knock at the door.

"It's open." She almost whispered.

After a few moments, the knock repeated itself. She looked up, and noted a matching panel on the inside of the door. Apparently it wasn't open, and only she could open it. For a moment, she considered remaining in this room, and never leaving it.

_Your life is what is keeping Earth intact at the moment._

She lowered her head. She would have to face him eventually. Crossing over to the door, she placed her hand against the panel. The second it accepted her palm print, she sprinted back across the room, behind a chair. She stood behind it, gripping the backing. Placing the chair between her and the door made her feel a tiny bit safer.

What passed through the door and into her room was not a Tallest, and not an Irken, but a common human gardener. With an unruly mop of hair, a tattered backpack, and yellow garden gloves up to his elbows, Scar crossed the room and took a seat in the opposing stuffed chair. He raised his eyes to Gloria, saying nothing as the door clicked shut behind him.

"Why do you look like that?" Left her mouth before she could recall it, her tone sharp.

"Because the last time you were able to make eye contact with me and speak to me, this is how I looked." He answered evenly. "I thought it best to diffuse as much of the difficulty in this situation as possible. Some cannot be avoided. Others can."

Anger curdled her stomach. He was right, and she couldn't stand it. The sight of Scar, even knowing who he was, set her more at ease to speak her mind than the sight of Tallest Red would have.

"What do you want?" She forced her voice to match his own even calm.

"A few things." He replied mildly. "I want to know what you would prefer to be called instead of Tallest, as the drone outside relayed that it is a title you despise. You cannot be called merely Gloria, you are a co-ruler with me, and a title is required."

"My title isn't slave then?" She bit out, "Or specimen?"

His eyes flicked away from her, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction, followed quickly by a surprising regret.

_Why did I say that?_

"No." He replied. "That is not your title, nor will it ever be again."

She considered a moment, settling on a title she could accept easily. "Lady. They can call me Lady Gloria."

He nodded slightly, still staring off to the side now. "I also wish to inform you of your sleeping arrangements. You will be placed in Tallest Purple's old quarters. I have informed the drones to reprogram the sole entrance door to respond to your handprint." He paused. "There is an adjoining door to my quarters, which will also be programmed with the same specifications."

She tensed. "I would prefer that door converted into a wall."

He shook his head. "In case of an emergency, you need to be able to access my quarters."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you have the same access to mine, I suppose."

Again, he shook his head. "That emergency access is currently reserved for you, and you alone." He waited a moment, and when she didn't respond, continued. "Lastly, I wanted to have a discussion with you concerning…" and here, he faltered. "Concerning…" he swallowed. "If… there was ever anything… you wished to know… or ask… or be shown… concerning our previous… situations…" he folded and unfolded his hands. "I… would… answer whatever you may choose to ask."

She knew exactly what she wanted to ask. The first thing she had always wanted to know for sure. She had guessed, but she needed to hear it. "Where are they?" Her stare was unrelenting, burning. "What did you do with them?"

Red's eyes closed, and he lowered his head into yellow-gloved hands. "They're dead." He said quietly. "All used in various experiments. Zim surviving being thrown through a dimensional device was sheer luck, he landed back on Irk earlier in time. Any others thrown through landed in space, or on other planets where they were killed by exposure. The rest were experimented on in our labs."

His detailed description cut deeply, but she knew what he was doing. He was laying to rest any hope she had that more children still lived somewhere.

"Did you oversee these experiments?" Her voice was like ice.

"I watched some." He didn't lift his head. "I directed a couple."

"Did you feel _anything_ for them?"

His hands dropped away from his face, regret weighing his features down. "Nothing." His voice cracked. "I felt nothing for them."

Gloria turned away, clenching her eyes shut. His tone spoke volumes more than he was saying, but she didn't want to hear it. She wasn't ready. "I would like to be alone." She stated.

She heard him rise, sighing. "You have to let me out."

She couldn't get to the palm-lock fast enough, and as soon as he had stepped through she closed the door behind him, sliding down the wall to the ground. She had far too much to think about, and no way of sorting all the thoughts and feelings.

Her gaze wandered over to the easel. Then again…

…..

The corridors of the circus backlot sprawled every whichaway, dim and dingy. The brightly colored big top stood between the small mid-way and the backlot like a shield, hiding the goings-on of all members, from the stage-hand smoking in the shadows of the creature cages, to the ringmaster quietly exiting a battered door.

Said ringmaster idly strode down one of the halls, red cape flowing behind him, red top hat neatly fitting over his red antennae. With green skin, average height, and cold, dull red eyes he wouldn't have stood out much. That is, if not for the red Irken symbols adorning his skin from head to foot. Over his right eye coiled what looked like a red seal of some sort.

His pace was brisk as he tapped his red cane on the ground every so often to startle any stagehands out of his way. Once in his room, he shut the door. It had been a good show that night, he reflected blandly, taking off his hat and sitting down. Seemed most of the Irkens in the crowd were entertained. So many bright, young, happy faces. None the wiser when the grand finale happened, which made it all the easier for him.

 _Fools. All of them._ A downright foolish race, with maybe the slightest of exceptions, him included. _But it's not my problem if they are stupid_. In fact, it made things all the more enjoyable for him.

And he liked enjoying things.

Suffering, torture, watching the light leave their eyes, knowing they had been begging for it to stop hours beforehand. But they deserved it, and deep down they should all have known it too. He was only helping them along. After all, what life would they really go back to? In a way they should spend their last moments thanking him, but usually, they were too busy screaming, and that was just fine with him.

The lights in his room flickered, dimming down to a near pitch-black. A chuckle resounded from the corner of his room, followed by a pitched double voice that rang with amusement. "You seem to have had a good evening."

The Irken didn't even flinch at the dimming, but stared down blankly and spoke in a cold monotone. "What do you want?"

A dark figure moved in front of him, a pair of gleaming yellow eyes peering out at him. "Oh come now, no conversation? No chit-chat? And you're usually so cheerful, tsk tsk." The voice mocked him.

The Irken raised his eyes to the figure. "Look. You're here for a reason, tell me why so I can do it."

The yellow eyes roll slightly. "For someone who enjoys drawing things out you're very abrupt." The eyes fixed back on the Irken, all amusement gone. "You've seen the news. The union between Irk and this new planet, Earth."

"I suppose I should care since you are bringing it up?"

"You might say that. I have a rather vested interest in the situation. Now, I know you're incredibly grateful to me already for the great gift I've given you, but I'm anxious that this job go off... smoother, than say, some of your previous jobs have gone off. So I am willing to divert a rather large sum of monies to you, if you follow my instructions very, very carefully."

The Irken raised one antennae, his expression never changing. "Well, you sound serious. You never sound so serious, usually you sound more upbeat. Something's gotten you on edge for you to want me to do a job this clean with a large some of monies."

"You could say that. I need the new co-ruler disposed of, and rather quickly." The eyes flashed slightly. "She is already becoming a great nuisance to me."

The Irken yawned. "She hmm? Ok, details please. What's her name, where's she located, blah blah blah."

"Her name is Gloria. Formerly known as Gloria Membrane. If you must bring her family into it in order to eliminate her, do it. She's located on the Massive, and heavily guarded."

Scoffing, the Irken waved a hand. "The Massive. Hmph. Do you honestly think their little guards and Armada can stop me?" His marks, eyes, and antennae glowed red. "They'll be dust if they get in the way."

The figure paused. "Riddick, my dear boy," The voice drawled the term condescendingly, "She is guarded by a Morflar with a personal vendetta against anyone who tries to harm her."

Riddick's antennae lowered slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "Does it look like I care about a little shadow? Look, I'm just saying I could, that doesn't mean I will. You told me you had instructions I need to follow to the letter, so start reciting the alphabet."

"It's simple. You cannot allow her to see you." The yellow eyes narrowed as well. "Torment her if you must, but she can't see you. Not for half a second. If she so much as lays eyes on your cape, I will kill you myself." The voice changed pitch to a deep, demonic rumble. "Are we perfectly clear?"

Unfazed, Riddick responded, "Fine, whatever."

Returning to a more pleasant pitch, the voice hummed. "Good. I look forward to your work, it never ceases to amuse me." The lights flickered, returning to their normal strength, and the figure was nowhere to be seen.

Riddick shook his head _. Whoever this Gloria is, he seems pretty off put by her, more than he let on._ He rose, donning his hat. He had work to do. Perhaps he would enjoy himself thoroughly with the torture. After all, a human... it was rare to come across those. He wonders if their begging and screaming would be similar to an Irken's.

_Looks like I shall find out._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Riddick, and from this point on, anything involving Riddick is in collaboration with CHIKARAfiction, who came up with Riddick.


	4. Sorting Things Out

With the government now begging for information, it wasn't hard convincing them to allow Zim to continue heading the development and invention department of Membrane Inc. Zim was perfectly content with this arrangement, as it allowed him to begin sorting things out.

At least within his own mind.

He still had no idea what to say to Dib, so obviously upset with him. He was sure he'd be feeling the wrath of Gaz sooner or later. He didn't even know how to begin to speak to Gloria now that she was aboard her ship of personalized nightmares, even if she was safe. Tallest Red? Now so busy with sorting out the details of an alliance, there would probably be no time to even discuss Zim's status as Mekrelmar and revoking it.

He focused on the parts in front of him. He continued to build the ship he'd begun, though at a much less frantic pace. Most parts he built out in the main laboratory, with cameras and engineers watching, learning from the process. Some, though, he built in a smaller lab. He would, he promised, explain every part he built, but there were times he needed to build things alone, and use the motion and focus to sort through his thoughts.

Which is why the knock on the door immediately placed him in an irritable mood. "Go away, Zim is busy." He called. The knock came again, and his antennae pressed against his skull. "Not in the mood, go away." Again, the knock.

With a low growl, Zim crossed the room, keying in the code to unlock the door. He yanked it open. "This had better be imp—"

Tunaghost stood there, one hand on her hip, the other holding a battered brown lunchbag.

Zim scowled. "How did you get in here? Nobody but Dib and the employee drones have access to the labs."

"Government pass." She said blandly. "Seems two Irkens each put in a good word for my help in the situation with Tallest Red. Cleared my record, and upped my pay grade."

Sighing, Zim stepped aside to let her in, then returned to his seat at a worktable. "What do you want?"

She set the sack on the worktable. "Della didn't have the clearance to get in. She kicked up a fuss and threatened everyone in arm's reach, but they wouldn't let her in. She sent this with me on my way in. Cheese sandwich, I think she said."

Zim's shoulders loosened some, and he opened the lunch sack gratefully.

"She said whenever there's a lot on your mind you start working and forget to eat." Tunaghost tilted her head. "Lot on your mind?"

Zim pulled out the sandwich and took a bite. "Why are you here?" He asked, ignoring her question.

She shrugged slightly. "Well, I'm not your official questioner, but I'll be going back and forth between the Massive and Earth." At Zim's startled glance, she added, "Tallest Red has asked for occasional sessions to help keep his mind straight. He hasn't had several years to help in that, like you have, and he has immediate need of a clear head at all times now." She sighed. "He really needs a psychiatrist, you know, not a magic expert. But he seems to think this way is better, and nobody's going to argue with the guy who has a thousand cannons aimed at Earth."

"So you're here because…" Zim prodded again.

"Well, if you wanted any messages passed to him, I could get them there." She sat on the edge of a nearby table, kicking her legs. "I caught something about him being your father at some point, and—" His hand closed around her mouth with an almost vice-like grip.

"Agent Tunaghost," Zim tried to keep his voice steady. "I know you mean well. But that information, spoken aloud carelessly, could cause my death. It could also cause the death or torture or reprogramming of Tallest Red, which would also be bad for Earth." He released her mouth. "I am Zim. An ex-Invader dishonorably discharged. Of no relation to Tallest Red. Do you understand?"

She rubbed her mouth, wincing. "I get it, alright, I get it."

"So. For the final time, why are you here?"

Tunaghost regarded him for a moment, before answering, "You looked upset on the news clips. From the wedding."

Zim lifted an antenna. He'd watched that video feed, and he'd only appeared a few times. "So?"

"So, I'm just wondering what's bugging you. If you're alright."

"Why would it matter to you?" He picked up a tool to tinker with. "You're no longer being paid by the government OR the Swollen Eyeball to question me."

"Maybe that's the point. Maybe I feel like I wasted a lot of questions." His tinkering stopped as she continued. "Maybe I realize the questions were stupid ones that didn't mean anything, and wasted a lot of time. Maybe I realize I didn't ask any of the right questions at any point in time since you first came to the sewer-based headquarters. Maybe I realize that the lack of correct questions led to a whole lot more pain for you than you should have had to experience. And even after that I didn't stop asking stupid questions." Zim set the tool down carefully as her voice grew harsher. "It was all, 'How do you build this?' 'Are you going to tell me what this thing does?' 'What can I take back to the government?' when I should have been asking, 'Why do you have nightmares?' 'What would make them stop?' and 'Is there any way I can tell you how sorry I am for not stopping Darkbooty?' You know, little questions like that."

Her outburst died out into an awkward silence. She shifted on the table as he stared, unmoving.

"Well say something." She mumbled.

He watched her fidget her fingers against the edge of the table a little longer, before slowly responding, "I don't know how to fix it."

She glanced at him.

"I don't know how to fix this… and make them happy again." He looked down at the device he was working with. "I helped with the solution that saved the most lives and made the most people happy. But it made some of the people close to me most unhappy. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Well, who do you not know how to fix things with?"

"Gloria." He leaned back, waiting for her response.

"Have you tried a visit? A familiar face might do wonders."

"My status is still traitor to Irk, I'd be shot on sight."

"Well then, give me something to hand off to her. Something that doesn't incriminate you."

A thought crossed his mind. "Are you aware of—"

"Your connection to the Membrane family, yes." She finished. "It isn't hard to draw the dots when you speak of parentage on one side, and the knowledge of his past connection to her."

Zim bent over his workdesk with a piece of paper and a pencil. "Dib."

"Mothman's a talker. I'd suggest confronting him, letting him spill everything he's upset about. Usually he works it out in a monologue with himself and ends up feeling better in the end. You just have to be patient and hold your tongue."

Zim chuckled at that, it sounded about right. "Gaz?"

"What is she?" Tunaghost shivered a little. "Nobody explained that to me, what is this thing she transforms into? Or is that her natural form, and she transforms into a little girl?"

"Suffice it to say, morflars are an Irken's natural predator, and worst nightmare." He swallowed. "She's promised to keep her flares off me because I helped save Gloria, but her rage is still a frightening thing to face, as… as a prey creature."

Tunaghost shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you about Gaz. There's very little I know about her. But I would suggest initiating a conversation with her. That way you have the high ground and you're coming to her, not letting her find you."

He nodded slowly. "Your words have sense." He folded the piece of paper and handed it to her. "When you next go to the Massive, could you deliver this to Gloria?"

Taking the paper, she slipped it into her pocket. "Absolutely."

He turned back to the device on his desk and picked up the tool. "You should go. I need to continue this… thing… and building it."

She nodded, and slipped off the desk, heading toward the door she'd left hanging open a crack, when his voice stopped her.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

She twisted her head back around. "What for?"

"Nobody from the Eyeball ever apologized to me. Or said that anything they did was wrong, or anything less than well-deserved." He dipped his head slowly. "Thank you."

She nodded, and slipped through the door. She couldn't help a little curiosity over the note in her pocket, but she'd keep it for Gloria. Her first official visit to the Massive was scheduled for the next day, and as she had only met Zim and Tallest Red, it would be interesting to see what the general Irken populace looked like.


	5. Two Down

"-and I just don't get why you rushed into this like we couldn't find another option! I mean if we'd just had a few more minutes I'm sure we could have—"

Tunaghost's advice the previous afternoon about holding his tongue was getting harder every second. It had been precisely fifty-eight minutes and Dib was still _going_.

"—But you just ran in like you always do and sent her off! I mean, did you even take two seconds to think about how she'd feel later? Or were you just thinking about—"

Zim couldn't help wondering how many words the Dib had stored up for this, and if they were almost out. He could only hope. He did have to get ready for Gaz. _Then again, maybe I'll just listen to Dib go on…_

"—are you just going to STAND THERE and stare or are you going to say something?"

 _Of course he's done now._ Zim shifted, calmly asking, "You are done now?"

"Yes!" Dib snarled. "Yes I'm done! Say something!"

Zim spread his hands. "What would you have had me do, Dib? Everything you say sounds right, but is completely illogical." He held up a hand against Dib's sputtering. "No, Zim's turn is now, make silence. First, there was no time. They would have begun a sweep of the planet at any moment. You know this. There was no idea-time or bargaining time, even Red had no other way out."

"I bet." Dib muttered.

Zim's eyes narrowed. Taking a step forward he landed a fist up on Dib's jaw, sending him sprawling back. "Don't you dare. Don't you DARE say that. Not after he crawled around in the dirt and the heat serving her for days, not after he saved her life _twice_ and didn't hurt her, not after all the time Gaz was hanging over his shoulder breathing down his neck, don't give me that dooky Dib. He's not who he used to be."

Dib rubbed his jaw, scowling stubbornly.

"Second, of course my family was the first thought in my mind. They're the ones that need the most defenses, because they don't _have_ any! You have your technology left by your father, and your prosthetics that you've programmed to do Irk-knows-what. And you have GAZ. No, I wasn't thinking of THIS family, which is clearly well protected!"

Dib glanced aside.

"Not that that would have done anything against an Irken sweep, but in terms of priorities, yes, my mind went to the least defended of those near me." He took a breath. "Third, for some reason you continue to lay on me what happened when it was your mother herself who _told_ Zim to take her to the Massive! Now, are you going to continue to stay angry at Zim for reasons that are completely beyond the bounds of logic or are you going to get over your donkey self and HELP ME figure out what to do about it?"

Dib sighed. "I hate you when you're right."

"Likewise, and you've been right plenty, it's Zim's turn."

Muttering, Dib righted himself. "So what are you gonna do about Gaz? I haven't seen her since Mom left, but she's probably got something cooking for you."

Zim twitched slightly. "Just stay upstairs tonight, and if you hear screams from downstairs, help?"

"Whatever you say Spaceboy."

…

Gloria settled back on her stool, staring at the piece on her sketchpad. It was dark, and not just because she'd used charcoal. A starved face stared out at her from in front of a jagged sunflower.

_Where did this image even come from?_

Ripping it out of her sketchpad, she crumpled the drawing, throwing it over her shoulder into the corner where a pile of other such drawings lay. All charcoals and gray pastels and pencil ground into the paper. She didn't even bother with the acrylics, she knew the first color she'd reach for would be black.

_This isn't me._

Her eyes shifted to the corner, where a shadow with no object to cast it lay curled, watching. True, her own mood was dark enough, but combined with Gaz's despair, it was proving difficult to find her own thoughts.

She'd spent the night in that room, sleeping up against the wall. She'd opened it for an Irken who had brought her food, and left to use the facilities. That had been an adventure all in itself. The Irken had had to shout directions on how to use the strange bathroom through the door, as she wouldn't unlock it for him. She was pretty sure she had the hang of it though.

But not a single drawing or painting had a splash of color. It's not that she couldn't pick up the brush and drip blue all over the canvas, but it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right but monochrome. And she didn't like it.

Another knock at the door. Probably more food. She hoped it was just that Irken. She didn't want to hear about how she hadn't used her new quarters. Someone had likely already informed Tallest Red. She walked over to the door, palming the lock and leaving a charcoal handprint behind.

It slid aside, revealing the Irken bearing her food. Next to him stood a woman with spiky yellow hair. She lifted a hand, waving.

"They told me you were to be called Lady Gloria. We never officially met." She extended a hand. "Agent Tunaghost. Not affiliated with the Swollen Eyeball, but for now interested in keeping first name to self."

Gloria took her hand carefully. "You're here because?" She felt a piece of paper in Tunaghost's hand.

Tunaghost shrugged, leaving the paper in Gloria's hand as she pulled hers back. "Call it a friendly visit. I have to come every couple of days and help Tallest Red sort his mind out a bit more. He says magic helps, and that's my specialty." She dipped her head with a small salute. "Maybe I'll see you on the way out, yeah? Lemme know if you want any goodies when I come back next." With that, she stuck her hands in her pockets and strolled down the hall. The Irken set down the tray of food hastily and scurried after her.

Gloria stepped back inside, closing the door and unfolding the paper in her hands. Holding it up, she read out loud, softly.

 _Greetings. You may know me vaguely as your son's friend, Zee. I did some work on your eyes at one point._ Confused, she paused. A cold flare brushed past her face.

_"Keep reading. He can't reveal his name when contacting you. He's considered a traitor here."_

She continued. _I know your eyes may still need some improvements, as some things were left unfinished. Would there be a suitable time for me to visit Lady Gloria's quarters to finish repairs?_

 _"Just an excuse to get up here."_ Gaz fumed in her mind.

_Please respond back with an answer to my riddle. Do shadows play games in the dark?_

Gaz's eyes widened. _"That little…"_

Gloria folded the note, slipping it back in her pocket. She glanced at the wall she'd dozed against. She felt so tired. And another night in this room was not an option. "Gaz, could you tell him he can come see me when you go?"

_"What makes you think I'm going to see him?"_

"Because I'm asking you to take a break." She turned, reaching a hand to the shadow against the nearby wall. "I need some time alone. Completely alone. Maybe some sleep alone would help."

_"You really believe him about the door in the wall being locked?"_

Her arms folded in front of her. "Does it matter? One way or another I can't stay in here forever. If I really have the power he tells me I have, then he can't lay a hand on me. If I don't… we'll know, won't we?"

_"There isn't a single word in that sentence that convinces me to leave."_

"Gaz. Please." _I need my thoughts to myself._

The shadow drooped some, but slipped a flare into her hand, squeezing it.

_"I'll be back tomorrow."_

"I know you will."


	6. One To Go

Zim sat on the couch in the living room of the Membrane household, a game controller resting loosely in his hands. His sweater hung in tatters and a few scratches oozed a dark green. The TV in front of him flickered with the title screen of some game or another, and a second controller lay next to him, hooked up and ready for use.

He'd been sitting like that for a couple of hours, unsure when Gaz would be arriving. _Do shadows play games in the dark_ had been somewhat vague, but he figured she'd understand it was an evening invitation.

A cold chill crept up his spine, and he felt the couch beside him sag slightly. He didn't turn his head.

"Portal 2, huh? Interesting choice." She muttered, picking up the controls. "You pick that so I couldn't drill you full of holes?"

He shrugged. "It looked relatively devoid of dangerous weaponry."

"You've got guts to go fishing in my room for a video game."

"Yes." He muttered, gesturing at his sweater. "The flesh eating dolls are a nice touch. But I didn't peg you for a soothing-musics type." As her glare, he added hastily, "Your CDs and your game collections were right next to each other, I didn't touch your CDs."

She turned to face the screen, starting the game up. "Classical helps me think clearer." She mumbled, selecting two-player mode.

Zim nodded, moving his robot forward.

"So. You just invite me here to play games?" She began flicking buttons with practiced ease.

"No. But I figured it was time we discussed a few things between us."

"There's nothing to say. You're an idiot, and could have saved all this trouble by leaving when I told you to, and now it's spun out of control."

"So you say, but you withheld vital information from me every step of the way. Information which may have prompted me to leave faster. So really, whose fault is it?"

Gaz's jaw tightened as her robot leaped from platform to platform.

"Gaz, I don't want to keep blaming back and forth. What has happened has happened, and there isn't any changing it. The only thing we can do now is fix it moving forward. And I'm going to have serious trouble doing that if you and Dib and I are not all on the same side."

"Dib's pissed at you too." Gaz growled.

"He is not urinating anywhere, Gaz, but he and I have spoken already and have come to SOME understanding at least."

Rolling her eyes, Gaz shot a portal at the ceiling over Zim's robot. "We don't need to come to an understanding. You're just here to screw up my life and get away with it. That's all."

"This isn't just about your life, Gaz." Zim said tersely. "If you haven't gotten it into your head lately, there's a lot more than just you involved in this. There's even a lot more than just _your family_ involved in this. The entire planet hinges on making this bond work and keeping Tallest Red and Gloria safe."

"I've got Mom covered." Gaz hissed.

Zim glared at her. "Then stop antagonizing Tallest Red! I mean it Gaz! You know the effect you have on him. And you can't be so blind as to insist he hasn't changed at all. Look me in the eyes and tell me you think he'd raise a hand against her."

"Of course he won't, he knows I'd destroy him."

"If you weren't there," Zim turned his attention back to the screen. "I would bet on my life he would still not harm her."

"Well I'm not there now am I?" her form darkened some. "Maybe I'll take that stupid bet, since you're so quick to throw your life out the window."

Zim paused, hearing Mikko's words echoed back at him. He grimaced. "You're right. I am." He admitted. Sighing, he leaned back. "Gaz. I don't want to be terrified of you one moment, and furious with you the next. Honestly, it is exhausting. I would like to come to some kind of amicable agreement."

"Yeah. You and Dib both want that. But it's not happening." Her eyes narrowed.

"And why is that?"

"You're not my family." She gripped the controller. "I don't care what Dib thinks or says, or even what Mom says right now. You're not any part of my family, and you never will be."

Zim let the silence hang for a bit, advancing his bot and firing a portal to get Gaz's bot through a particularly nasty trap. "I'm not asking to be your brother you know. You're not any kind of sister I'd want. You're scary. But I'd prefer we start working together instead of you keeping me out of all your plans, and me keeping you out of all my plans. Can we agree to share information with the common goal of keeping the people we care about safe?"

Gaz frowned, jamming a button with her thumb. As they cleared to the next level, she muttered, "Fine. But don't expect me to run around saving your useless butt when you get in trouble."

"Likewise." Zim flipped his robot over a railing. "Now can you please explain why the game is suddenly trying to kill us?"

….

_The Massive, home to the main scum of this universe. I consider just blowing up the entire ship, just rid the world of a nice chunk of this green stain. However that is not my objective. However, in order to get to my objective, some things need to happen._

_Entering the Massive is beyond simple. I merely dock the patrol ship in the hangar, leaving the unfortunate drone jammed in the back where I threw his corpse. I sneak around corridors and hallways. Their cameras don't see me. Pitiful technology they have, it couldn't catch a hogulus plowing down the corridor, much less something more intelligent that doesn't want to be caught._

_The guards patrol their robotic paths, back and forth. It's a good thing they never break away from them, or actually give a flirk about what may be happening in the hall nearby. All they'd have to do is take an extra step, but no. They turn and walk again, the same path imprinted in their minds. They might as well be robots. I'm glad they aren't though, where's the fun in that?_

_Robots don't feel pain._

_I hold out my hand in front of me as my red marks glow. The sensation I get, as a sort of red aura forms in my palm, never ceases to give me a twinge of amazement. Just a glob of ever flowing red energy, and as I concentrate, this aura becomes more solidified. Before you know it, I am holding a red knife in my hand, completely created by my will, my power alone. Unmatched in any universe, and all mine to control. Those fools would never know what hit them. I could destroy them all right now... if that were my objective._

_I continue to slink down the hallways, until I reach the control room. Two guards stare blankly at the opposite wall. This should be easy. I wave my cape in the corner of the hallway, and it catches one of their eyes. He thinks he saw something, and they debate on who will check it out. One eventually comes, and before they know it, the red knife is in his neck. I keep him alive enough for him to utter out gasped chokes as the light leaves his eyes. The other comes out in a confused panic, and that same red knife is in his head, dropping him instantly. By that point the other one's cries are faint croaks, he shall be dead soon. I take a moment to allow myself a slight flicker of joy at the sight of the green blood that pours into the hallway. I should have about fifteen minutes before a maid or janitor drone makes a round and sees this._

_Plenty of time._

_I open the control room door silently and sneak in. The Irkens in the room don't even acknowledge it opening. Their faces are glued to the screen. Some look like they haven't slept in days, perhaps weeks of constant monitoring of the entire Massive, so its quite easy for me to traverse around and not attract attention. I need to find the one camera that shows a non-Irken, and I'd assume someone of this caliber would be on a much more important camera. One connected to a bigger screen, perhaps, so I creep over to those, as quietly as possible, to get a glimpse and see if I can find what I am looking for, and where she is._

_An odd figure passes by one of the camera. No antennae, and a full head of unbound hair trailing to the floor. Her body droops with fatigue, but apprehension tightens her features. An extra two fingers on each hand, a nose, and oddly designed eyes. This is no Irken._

_Good, that's what I want. Tired are you human? Then why don't you take a rest... I can assist you in taking a lengthy one._

_The human steps out of view for a couple of minutes, and returns in an odd set of clothing, patterned on the top and bottom with horses galloping in all directions, upside down, sideways, diagonal. She stares at the bed for awhile before slipping under the covers, her back turned to the camera._

_Don't like the camera do you?_

_I make a note of the room, and I am on my way, this should be quick and painless. And should get him off my back rather fast._

_I stride calmly down the hall, avoiding the cameras, until I arrive at my destination. Security codes are always a bother, and smashing the panel will alert all concerned parties. Can't have that. I pull out a slip of paper with carefully copied codes on it. He made it too easy for me, and I wonder in passing why he needs her gone so badly. I punch in the codes, and I hear the buzzing and clicking of the door as it opens._

_I peek in and take note of the cameras, none on me at the moment. I raise my hand, and it glows. I need to disable the cameras from a distance, maybe a bit more tricky, but not impossible. I take note as the wires on the cameras begin to glow red, influence by my power. One by one, they start to break, like I'm pulling them apart with my bare hands, but I am across the room. I can picture the static cutting on the feeds in the control room, and the Irkens starting to panic. I need to do this quick, and painlessly. I shut the door behind me and slink up to my target, silent, another red knife forming in my hand. The blankets have been pulled up around her head as she huddles in her sleep. A red platform appears below my feet, raising me up to her level. I am ready to end this._

_The figure turns, onto her back, eyes still shut tight as if she's trying to force herself to rest. The covers she'd pulled up to her head fall back revealing a shocking shade of purple hair._

_Alright, time to... time to... what's happening? My hand is raised, dagger poised to go into her throat...and its... shaking? I don't shake! I don't get nervous... why all of a sudden? Why now? I'm...locked in place... frozen... like some animal caught in a bright light... this isn't me... so why all of the sudden?_

_Shouts ring down the hall. She begins to stir. It is too late, the moment has passed. If I stay another moment I will be seen, and the warning he gave echoes in my mind._

_Cursing, I focus, my marks glowing, red energy enveloping my body. I was going to save this to escape once the deed was done, since it consumes the most energy, but she can't see me! And I can't stay here. In a flash, I have vanished from the room. My first and easiest attempt has failed. But...why was it a failure?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shift to first person present tense because CHIKARAfiction and I decided to put this part from inside Riddick's mind. Yes, it may disrupt the flow a bit, but we thought it would be good to be able to describe a few things from within Riddick's head. As always this series and most stories I work on are experiments in what works and what doesn't.


	7. Feeling The Strain

Red tumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed. From the floor, he twisted toward the door, blinking. It was emitting loud noises, and panicked voices that he couldn't make out. He rubbed his eyes and righted himself, sitting up. It was too dark to be the right time to wake up, the lights had always switched on by the end of the sleep cycle. So why was there banging on the—

"My Tallest! Open the door! There are two guards dead, the feed to Lady Gloria's room is cut. You must access the room, Lady Gloria has been attacked!"

Bolting to his feet, Red slammed his hand into the panel, opening the door. At least thirty guards stood in the hall, and as he craned his neck around, he could see two or three at her door, trying to reason with her. Shoving them aside, he stood at the door.

"Lady Gloria. Open the door."

Silence. Something twisted inside him. _Is she already dead?_

"Lady Gloria, if you're alive, you need to open the door. In exactly ten seconds, I will order the guards to destroy the walls around the door to gain access."

The seconds stretched out. Five. Seven. Eight. Then a click, and a hiss as the door slid aside. She stood there, expression flat, clothed in strangely patterned garments. At the sight of her standing there, unharmed, the twisting undid itself and relaxed, until she caught sight of him. She tensed, drawing back, and he cursed himself.

He'd been dragged out of bed with no time to dress in his armor. He slept in the ceremonial Irken skirt and little else.

_Not something she wants to remember._

He couldn't change it. He gestured at the room, and three guards entered. Red stayed just outside, keeping his eyes on the guards.

"Sir, the camera wires were cut." One of the guards called, inspecting them. "The feed went dead in the control room, but there was no forced entry."

Red turned to the panel beside her door. Next to the palmlock, coded for her hand, there was a small keypad to enter a code in. But he had erased record of that code from the entire database. Even he did not hold that code.

He turned back to Gloria. "Did you see anything?"

"Nobody was in the room." She said flatly. "I was sleeping. And suddenly everyone was banging on the door. That's all."

"Where's…" he stopped, glancing at the guards. He motioned for Gloria to come closer. Shoulders rigid, she complied. He leaned over, whispering, "Where's Gaz? Was she not here?"

"I sent her out for now. She will be back soon."

"Then it couldn't have been her. And she couldn't have seen anything. The one time—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "When she returns, I… need to speak with her… say so to her." He pulled back.

Gloria didn't move, or raise her eyes to acknowledge him. She only asked, "Am I allowed to go back to sleep yet?"

Red looked to the room full of guards, looking for any clues about the break-in. "You will have to sleep under guard for now."

"I will be the only one in my room when I sleep." Her voice was harder this time.

Red turned on her, eyes narrow. "There are certain privacies you are permitted, Lady Gloria, and as many as can be afforded to you will be. However any Tallest or leader aboard this vessel is subject to certain laws, one of them being that if their life has been threatened, they must remain under watch for a certain period of time! That applies to any Tallest, or other ruler, and you are not exempt. You will have to sleep under guard."

"I don't need a guard!" She grated. "I'll just wait until she—"

Red hissed, "She doesn't exist." He stared hard at her, fully aware of every antennae turned toward them. If anyone got wind of there being a Morflar on board, a full-scale panic would ensue, and drastic action would be taken. There were a number of sonic devices on board that could disrupt, bind, or kill such a predator.

For a moment, he considered carrying one on himself. It would only take a minute's exposure, and he would be free of her for good.

"She doesn't exist." He repeated. "You need a guard that is here. Two died tonight, I am told. You could have died tonight. Whatever it was came into _your_ room, not mine. You have been threatened."

Turning, Gloria marched back into the room, Irkens scattering to get out of her way. Throwing back the covers she climbed in, yanked the blankets up, and lay down, her back to the door.

_Wonderful._

Red pointed his claw at one, two, three of the guards, and flicked his hand, dismissing the rest. The chosen three remained, positioning themselves around the bed. He turned and trudged down the hall, resigning himself to wakefulness. No doubt he would be receiving a visitor shortly, and he had to be ready for her.

Ducking into the recreational viewing room, he draped himself over his favorite lounge chair, staring at a blank viewing screen that covered the wall. Absently, he reached over to the nearby table for a handful of curly fries. His hand brushed the empty table, and he froze.

_Of course. Pur always ordered the curly fries._

He withdrew his hand, even as the attending drones scurried to place snacks on the table.

Tallest Purple.

He hadn't had time to think about the demise of his former co-ruler, everything had moved so fast. Well, everything but the earth governments.

But something bothered him. Ate at his spooch and gnawed like a worm. It wasn't like suicide was uncommon. Every Invader was equipped with a self-destruct mechanism, and off and on they would find the remains of some drone or another who couldn't handle the pressure anymore. But Pur was never the type. Under pressure, he panicked and threw food, or tossed drones out into space. There was no telling how he survived training, but however he did, he went to great lengths to avoid pain, even minor discomfort.

_Pur just wasn't the type._

He didn't want to think murder. Who could murder a Tallest? Who would dare do it and hope to get away with it? But with tonight's attack, he didn't see another option. Someone was trying to kill Irken leaders, or new leaders of the Irkens.

Sunk in his thoughts, time passed him by, minutes to hours, until a cold chill swept the room. He jerked his head around, eyes landing on a short Irken with icy purple eyes, and a dark aura.

"You sent for me?" Her voice was dangerously low.

He forced his arms to hold still as he maintained his lounging position. "Welcome to the Massive, Gaz. Take a seat." He waved a hand, as an attending drone pulled up a stool for her. "We have a few things to discuss."


	8. With Murderous Intent

Before Gaz could open her mouth, Red cut her off. "I know you have been keeping a low profile due to the secretive nature of your previous mission, but it is good to have you back in the ranks." She paused, confused as he continued. "Your standing as an Invader is quite valuable to us, but we will be needing you aboard the Massive for a more personal matter. You are one of the fiercest guards available to the Massive." He leaned forward, folding his claws together to keep them steady. "And we will be requiring your services to keep watch on the new co-ruler, Lady Gloria."

Her eyes lit with understanding. Slowly, she took the offered stool, eyes still narrowed, but less hateful than a moment before. "I will need to be briefed on the entire situation." She growled.

Red took a slow breath in. She had accepted her new role, and the appearance she would need to maintain aboard the Massive. That was a start. He turned to the display screen, wires from his PAK plugging into the control panel and calling up the security footage from his room and Gloria's, displaying them side by side. "This footage is less than ten hours old. As you can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary for awhile. Lady Gloria went to sleep in her new quarters, and I," He pointed to the second security feed, trained on him in his own room. "Was in the adjoining room." He glanced at her, to be sure she understood.

She grunted, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

Turning back to the screen, he continued. "You see here, the security feed from her room cuts out. At this point, the Irken Guard force swarmed on our quarters. She would not open until I demanded she do so, at which point I remained in the hall while my soldiers inspected the scene." He couldn't emphasize enough the distance he maintained from Gloria, he would say it a thousand times if he had to. "They found the camera wires cut, and no forced entry. The palmlock answers to Lady Gloria alone, and the code number has been erased from all databases. We found two guards dead some halls over, stabbed in the throat." He turned to Gaz. "We believe whoever came here intended to kill her, and had inside information nobody should know. Is this enough information for you? I understand you are an elite tracker with a keen sense of… smell..."

Rising from her seat, Gaz clicked her heels sardonically. "I assure you," she replied, "Whoever came here with the intention of harming Lady Gloria has very little time left to live."

Red turned away from her, as any Tallest would in dismissing an Irken of lower rank. He didn't have to worry about being considered arrogant. She could probably smell the fear seeping through his act.

…

_The air smells fresh._

_The green grass feels soft on my feet._

_The sun is warm, inviting_

_The blue sky is calm... serene._

_This place is awful._

Riddick stood in an open field, glaring at the scenery around him. Flashing to the stolen cruiser had taken a lot of energy, but a trip to the nearest planet had given him time to restore his strength.

And dissect his situation.

 _One job. I had ONE JOB. How did I screw that up? HOW?_ Riddick smacked his head repeatedly, replaying the entire scene in his head, over and over. _I did everything right except KILL her! And now security will be strengthened, everyone will be on high alert. And most of all, he will be furious. At least she didn't see me, or I'd have a bigger problem._

He ran a hand across the brim of his hat, turning to pace.

_Ok... I cut the camera feed, I got into her room simple enough. It wasn't nerves, I know my body and what I'm scared of, which is nothing. So what was it... ok red knife in my hand, her back is turned to me, her hair falls out from under the covers, its p-_

_...The hair._

_The hair was... purple. DAMN IT. I knew it couldn't be easy, I just knew it. That color always comes back to haunt me. I hate purple. Most disgusting color ever to be seen by the eyes. Every shade, every hue, just its existence. The sight of it makes me lock up... tense... because it just disgusts me. And she had a mop of it on her head. That's why I hesitated...the color of her hair._

_What a petty excuse, but its the excuse I have. What a lucky woman to be graced with that shade. Any other humanoid in the world would have been killed in an instant. But she's a special case, I can tell, or he wouldn't have come to me. She's bridging two worlds and bringing them together. I could care less... but now I need to rethink my strategy. A projectile weapon from a distance, to the head. That would do much better... no relishing in the kill this time, just quick death, end it, and that's all there is to it. It might be harder now, but I don't care. They are nothing compared to what HE is capable of..._

The sun hung low in the sky, an early morning dawn, but the air was suddenly chill, almost frigid. The color around him seemed to drain, the greens and blues losing their richness.

Ridddick blinked and looked around. That wasn't normal. Something flashed through his mind. What had he said? His eyes widened.

_The woman is normally guarded by a morflar. FLIRK._

He'd forgotten, those things had senses that were galaxies wide. He stretched out his arms and enveloped himself in a red ball. He was so thrown off it would be useless to run, he had to protect himself first and foremost, and then come up with a plan.

 _"Really."_ The voice rang in his mind, cold and filled with hate. _"Do you think that is going to save you?"_ The shadow hadn't shown itself yet. _"Fancy trick. Not one I've seen yet. Is that how you cut the wires?"_ The air grew colder. _"Is that how you would have killed her?"_

"Don't test me lapdog, I'm in no mood for shadow puppet mindgames." Riddick knew he could be in some danger here, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to become a shadows dinner.

His red ball lifted up and soared through the air, slamming against an oak at the edge of the field. _"Lapdog am I? And you? Do you act on your own, or are you on a leash? WHO SENT YOU?"_

The oak shattered apart, but the ball remained firm. "Wouldn't you like to know hmm? My, this isn't a Morflar's style at all now is it? Brute force? Who taught you your manners?"

A black shadow rose up from the ground, condensing into a small, tight little form, hands balled into fists, purple hair curled around into spiky bangs. She lifted her head, glaring through the red force. "Take. One. Guess."

The ball quivered ever so slightly at the purple hair, but he shook it off and regained his composre. "Oh look, it must have been adopt-a-morflar day."

"Yeah." She growled, sprouting an eye in the middle of her right cheek and a wide mouth up and down her left arm. "My name is Gaz, and now it's kill-a-brainless-Irken day." Her mouth twisted into a hideous grin. "Or did you have the misguided idea that I was hungry?"

Riddick scoffed. "Oh look at you. You're cute trying to be intimidating. Do tell me, can you turn into grotesque monsters? Giant Spiders, Horgoths Blicklesnicks? Morflars have impressed me with that they can change into, I'll say that much."

Gaz's eyes narrowed, and suddenly they hovered just inches away as she appeared inside his red ball. "Is that so?"

Riddick didn't bat an eye. "Oh it's so really. Neat trick. I bet you're wondering where that sweet smell of fear is, aren't you?"

"I don't need your fear." Gaz spat. "You're drenched in the fear and blood and death of a thousand Irkens, you must be the easiest creature in the galaxy to track. You're just twisted enough not to be afraid of me, but it doesn't matter." She reached for his neck. "I don't want your fear. I want you dead."

Riddick grabbed her arm, swatting it away. "You really think I'm afraid of you? Do you realize I've killed Morflars before? You know what's funny... you aren't that intimidating when someone finds out your weakness. Then you're just a puddle of black ink."

For half a second, Gaz faltered, then billowed out several flares, trying to smother him before he could act.

Riddick flicked his fingers and a small red ball appeared in front of him. It exploded, not with a backlash or a boom, but with a precisely tuned SNAP noise.

Gaz flailed back, flashing out of his ball and onto the ground, holding her head.

"Really? Just one?" Riddick fiddled with a few more in his hand as he too stepped out of the ball, a bored expression on his face. "Well you are just a flarling, but even so. My, living with Humans as made you soft."

Gaz's eyes snapped open, a blazing red. _"Stay away from her. Do you hear me? Don't TOUCH her. Don't even LOOK at her again."_

"So sorry, but see if I do that," He rolled the balls in his hands absently. "It'd be a lot worse for me. See, I really don't care about you, or anyone. All I know is she needs to die. Is that going to make you sad? I didn't know Morflars got sad. Could you cry for me? I would like to see if your kind could produce tears."

Gaz lunged at him, mouth open wide with razor sharp teeth. Riddick flung three red balls in her direction, and each exploded with the same SNAP noise, each successively louder than the last. Gaz dropped to the ground, unable to hold a form anymore, just a black shadow writhing on the ground.

Riddick strode up to her, and leaned down. "Now, how about you listen to me for a change, if you can keep your head straight after that. Hold on let me check. AM I COMING IN CLEAR?"

The shadow recoiled away from him, so damaged that even the shout was painful.

Riddick bent over her. "Now you listen to me. You can tell the entire Massive about me. You can tell your Tallest exactly what I did to you. You can tell the entire. Flirking. Planet. About what I can do. If anything, I'll enjoy the exposure, because none of them will be able to stop me. The more that get in my way, the more will die. One life, or the entire race? Or two races? I don't really care. I didn't even break a sweat, and you are quivering at my feet, miserable sludge you are. Take all the security precautions you like for her. In time, she will fall, and my job will be done. Tell that to the Irkens and Humans you've degraded yourself by living with. You aren't worth another second of my time. When you can figure out which way is up again, tell them. See you soon." With that, he walked briskly away, hopping into his cruiser.

As he warmed the engine up, he glanced over, watching the pathetic puddle begin to slink away, rippling and shivering. Disgust welled up in him, and he raised the vessel into the air, drifting just above her. "You know what, you were quite rude." He opened the hatch, releasing another small red ball, and watched it explode directly above her.

A horrific shriek ripped the air as the shadow vanished completely.

"Hmm. Did I kill her? Oh well. If she lives she lives, if she's dead, she shouldn't have come looking." With that, he closed the hatch and took off to find a quieter destination. He was sure to hear from him rather soon. He was not looking forward to that meeting.


	9. First Aid

Zim woke with a start, blinking at the light spilling through the blinds. He sat up, wincing as his antennae flicked up. He'd slept on the left one wrong, and it hurt. He rubbed it gingerly as he glanced down at the controller still in his hand.

_Must have fallen asleep during the game._

He pushed back the blanket that— _blanket?_ —He stared. It was definitely a blanket. Dib, most likely, he assured himself. But hadn't Dib been upstairs all night? _He could have easily come down while I was asleep._ He nodded. Dib had blanketed him. It was thoughtful, maybe Zim would refrain from punching him for a week, even if he said stupid things.

He brushed the blanket aside and stood, stretching. A visit to the clothings store would find him a new sweater to replace the one in tatters. And if they didn't have one just like this, he would find some tailor-drone to do the work. He'd come to like this one, it was comfortable, and maybe even—

Something blew past him, knocking him back down to the couch. A wailing shriek tore through the silence, as things began to crash and break around the room. A shadow flailed along the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It was everywhere and nowhere at once, always moving, flailing, gibbering a scrambled mess of words. It stretched and compacted, reaching out and curling in on itself every other second, unable to stay still. Even so, only one such shadow would come here.

"Gaz, what happened to you?" Zim stared in horror.

An inarticulate wail was the only response he received.

Something flashed through his mind, and he grabbed onto it. It was a slim shot, but Gaz was in no state to tell him anything, and it was his only clue. He darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and swinging around to burst into Gaz's room. The flesh-eating dolls all gleamed to life, homing in on him. This time he was ready, this time he knew where they were, and exactly what his target was.

As the jack-in-the-box sprang at him, he leaped over it, catching hold of the ceiling fan and swinging around. The clawed-monkey grabbed ahold of a spinning fan-blade, but Zim had already released, dropping down onto Gaz's bureau. Sweeping a leg, he cleared the top of the dresser of all dolls. One hand wrapped around the handle of her CD player, the other snatched a handful of the nearby musical discs. A large metallic-jointed snake coiled at the base of the dresser, ready to strike the second he leaped. He extended a laser, blasting the snake's head off as he hit the floor, bounding out the door and back down the stairs.

The living room was being torn to pieces. _Where is Dib?_ He plugged the player into the nearest outlet he could find and loaded a CD in, slamming the play button. Seconds later, a smooth, commanding strain of music floated out from the speakers. Zim cranked the volume up, hoping his hunch was correct.

The shadow flailed toward the player, landing on the floor nearby and puddling in place. It still jerked and spasmed, but as the music swelled and reached its crescendo, the movements stilled more and more. By the end of the piece, the puddle was perfectly still.

Zim leaned over as the next song began to play. "Gaz? Can you hear me?"

A flare reached upward from the puddle, and dissipated back down. She couldn't hold a shape, whatever damage had been done to her was bad, and he needed Dib. He rose to leave, when a flare wrapped around his ankle. The contact ripped through his mind, as a helpless sob wracked his thoughts.

_He's going to kill her. Zim, he's going to kill her, and I can't stop him. I can't stop him!_

Alarmed, Zim sat down, placing his hands on the puddle for more information. "He's going to kill who? Who is he?"

An image seared into his mind, a face. A contemptuous glare on the face of an Irken, covered in red marks. Power to create things out of nothing. Assigned to kill Gloria.

 _He already tried once, but he's going to come again. He doesn't care who I tell, because he knew nobody can stop him!_ The thoughts reached a fevered pitch. _I can't stop an Irken, Zim! He knew my weakness. I expect the Armada to know a Morflar's weakness, they keep Morflars for training purposes, but not outlaws like him. How does he know? I can't stop him! He's going to kill her, we have to get back to Mom!_ Small flares reached out from the puddle as she struggled to take form.

Zim pressed his hands against the flares, shoving them back down. "No. Now you listen to me Gaz, you are going to stay here. Whatever this music does it must help you counteract whatever attack he launched. You're not strong enough."

_But—_

"No! Stay here! I will send an urgent message to Tallest Red. If we must speak in private, the eyes of Irk can't follow us everywhere on Earth. I will tell him to bring her, and we will regroup and plan from here." He kept a hand on the puddle. "I will find Dib and bring him here. Just don't move."

Zim turned, making a beeline for the door. If Dib hadn't come down to investigate after all that noise, then he wasn't in the house. If he wasn't in the house, Zim had no idea where to start. But if Dib's end-of-the-world-text was any indication, he knew where to start.


	10. Background Movements

_He's wrong. He's so wrong._

Dib stared at the computer screen in his room, as he'd been doing for the last several hours. A quick peek downstairs had assured him that Gaz wasn't harming Zim. The two seemed deeply engaged in some video game or another, a smart move on Zim's part. But as he continued to sit in his room, he couldn't shake the thoughts that kept returning.

_He shouldn't have sent Mom._

Dimly, he could recall some sort of discussion with Zim that morning, and his jaw was still sore from the alien's punch, but the details were hazy. He couldn't remember the points Zim had made, or why he'd stopped being upset with Spaceboy. Nothing had been resolved, after all, his Mom was still aboard the Massive, under Red's thumb.

_It's all his fault._

Something rustled outside his window, breaking through his thoughts. Keeping his body still and pointed toward the computer, he angled his right arm so the palm faced toward the window, and stared at the reflection off the computer screen. He wasn't interested in a late night assault.

His window flew open and a black form darted in. His palm glowed, firing a split second too late. He heard it coming up behind him, and whirled around, slamming his still-glowing palm against the person's head.

His attacker barely flinched, the muzzle of a blaster resting against Dib's temple. Dib's eyes flicked to the blaster, lighting with recognition. "Mikko! What were you thinking?" He pushed her back, irritated. "I could have killed you, I wasn't set for stun!"

"Isn't that part of improving in training?" Mikko pulled her hood back, tucking the blaster away. "Setting the bar higher, raising the stakes?"

"Yeah, but not getting yourself killed is kind of important! Especially by me! Who knows what Zim would do if he found out!"

"Well you weren't answering any texts or calls for further training either, how else was I gonna get ahold of you?" She glared. "Had to find out what all the ruckus was from Zim and TV, not one word from you."

Dib turned back to his computer. "I've been busy."

"Too busy to explain your text?"

He grimaced. His chair spun toward her as she kicked the side of it. She folded her arms, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go on. Start explaining."

"What's there to explain?" He mumbled, keeping his eyes down. "I thought it explained itself."

" 'I think you're pretty' leaves a lot of questions open!" She protested.

A dull throbbing began behind Dib's eyes. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing them tiredly. "Yeah, so it does, but I haven't had time to figure out answers to those questions with Zim being the stupid idiot that he is right now."

Mikko blinked. "Why, what's he doing?"

"Nothing." Dib shoved his glasses back on. "Nothing, just… being Zim."

She eyed him sharply. "When you figure out those answers, you'll tell me?"

"What was the question again?" Dib mumbled.

"I didn't say, but implied is 'What now?' "

"I'll get back to you on that." Dib pinched the bridge of his nose. The throbbing was getting worse. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah. How fast can you get to the park?"

"The park?" He glanced up to see her by the window.

"Cause our training session is in fifteen minutes, don't be late."

"Wait!" He bolted up, but she was through the window and down the tree already. Groaning, he slipped through after her. Maybe some sparring would clear up the headache.

…

Tunaghost sifted through confiscated Swollen Eyeball data from the comfort of her apartment. She'd been granted access to the files fairly easily, but working as an aide to Tallest Red had its perks. Anyone who had the ear of the highest ranking Irken got what they wanted at this point.

And she wanted to know what happened to DarkBooty.

She had never worked much with him, but she'd heard people talking about him as she passed him in the halls. And the phrase she'd heard most, even in her earlier years at the Eyeball, had been, "He's so different now…"

Scanning through clips and memos and video files, she could see it. He'd come to the Eyeball in his early thirties, determined to prove aliens existed. He'd just been hired at Nasa as a janitor. His IQ should have landed him a higher ranking job, but he preferred to work behind the scenes, unseen. Nobody would suspect a janitor, he boasted. And nobody did. He single-handedly gathered enough intel from cleaning Nasa's floors and keeping an eye on their unused equipment, that he maintained funding for the alien studies wing for two decades.

Then, things began to change. Actual alien test subjects began coming into the Eyeball. Civilians were brought in who never left. DarkBooty began to get a harder expression in the photos taken of him, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he were being watched. Experimentation on the alien test subjects, initially benign, became brutal and bloodthirsty—surgical with almost no rhyme or reason. Aliens whose organs had already been mapped out due to their predecessors in the laboratory suffered the exact same fate, re-opened again and again.

And then Zim. Twice, Booty had laid him open, but it made no sense. On the wall behind him was a large-scale poster illustrating an Irken's internal organs—of which there were two. Yet Booty seemed to take a sadistic joy in making him scream.

_What happened?_

She hovered over one file, opening it. A hallway camera, capturing footage of Zim's escape. Dib lay collapsed in the hall, shot and in shock. DarkBooty ordering open fire on Zim and Dib. Zim, extending whatever half-destroyed tools were left in his PAK in an attempt to look threatening, standing over Dib in defense.

She paused on that image, staring at it. Not all scars there were from the Eyeball. Most, it seemed, he had gotten through harsh training. It really was a marvel, given everything he said and everything those who knew him could relate to her, that he continued to find the will to fight on. And beyond that, to find something precious enough to fight for. So many would have turned dark, destroying everything around them, but Zim continued reaching through the darkness until he found what he needed.

The fact that DarkBooty was unable to grasp that this alien was no threat to humanity, as head of the alien department, was both disturbing and no longer believable. Something had happened to Booty, and it was about time she found out what.

She glanced at the screen again. She wasn't the only one who should find out. If anyone deserved answers from DarkBooty it was Zim. Scooping up her cell, she flipped through numbers to dial her connections. She needed a visitation room in the local prison block.


	11. Collecting the Strands

Zim's hunch hadn't been far off. A quick trip to see Della had confirmed Mikko had left the night before, dressed in black, and that she'd been doing that for awhile.

"Is she in trouble?" Della had demanded. "Is it the Eyeball?"

"No, just the Dib-stink." Zim muttered. "Does she say why she's going?"

"Not really. She's usually harder to wake the next day though, and complains she's sore all over. After Tiana was taken, we got her a can of mace, but we keep finding it on the desk and won't tell us why. She just says she doesn't need it."

"Does she ever say where to find her?"

"She says she's gone to the park most of the time."

A quick vault over to the park set his irritation burning to anger. Blast marks plastered the trees all over, and in several places the grass was scorched, or so green that it could only be fresh grown over old scorch marks. This had been going on for awhile. How could he not have figured it out?

They weren't there, and he'd just come from talking with Della, and before that from the Membrane household. He turned on his heel, racing toward the emergency room

_Dib I will murder you if I find her here._

Bursting through the ER doors, he took a moment to pull himself upright, before declaring loudly, "I am Zim! And I need to know if a certain stupid idiot by the name of Dib Membrane came in with a young female by the name of Mikko who is about…" He clenched his jaw, raising a hand over his head, "This…. Tall… and has black hair, and maybe a bad burn."

A harried nurse looked up from the window. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait your turn like everyone else."

Zim strode up to the window, crossing his arms and doing his best to look intimidating. "Listen medical drone, there are days when Zim is patient, and days when Zim is understanding, but today is not one of those days. Was there a hyuman of that description entered here in the logbooks or not?"

"Sir, please take your seat, there's a line—"

"Do you WANT an adult sized temper-tantrum here on your floor or will you tell me if she was admitted here? I am her brother!"

The nurse paused, sizing him up. "Sir, you don't have a relative here, that's for sure."

Zim's antennae flattened for a moment, then sprang up in alarm. "What is THAT?" He pointed behind her dramatically. She turned, startled, as he seized her sign-in sheet, scanning it.

_Mikko, under care of Dib Membrane. Room 251._

"Hey! Do you want me to call the police?"

He shoved the clipboard back at her and stormed through the "Doctors Only" door, pushing past wheelchairs and nurses and long white coats he refused to think too hard about.

On finding 251, he stomped in, exuding as much rage as his five foot frame allowed. "The FLIRK were you thinking?"

Mikko sat on a table, legs hung over the side, arm extended out to a doctor who was inspecting it. Dib hovered nearby, a worried expression on his face. Of the three, Dib was the only one who didn't look up.

The Doctor frowned. "What are you doing? You can't just barge back here like this!"

"Yes, so the medical drone up front said. She also said police, but I'm her brother, and I'm here to make sure she's being treated well."

"Her… brother?" The Doctor snorted.

"He is." Mikko frowned at him. "He's my brother, call my home number and Mom and Dad will say so too."

He shook his head, returning to study her arm. "You have a strange family then. She'll need a small skin graft, but she'll be fine, I'll take care of it."

Zim nodded, eyes narrow. "Very well. You," He pointed at Mikko. "I will talk to later. You," he pointed at Dib, "I will talk to NOW."

Dib finally looked up, his brows pulled together. "Not now Zim. I'm gonna stay and make sure things go okay."

Zim crossed the room, reached up, yanked Dib down by his coat collar, and hissed in his ear, "While you're running around taking care of MY family, YOURS is falling apart. Your mother has an attempt on her life last night, and your sister is currently in the living room, lying in a puddle of herself. Mikko is in the hands of a capable doctor, and as soon as I get Della on the phone she'll be here also. We're leaving NOW."

Pale, Dib straightened, brushing past Zim. "Sorry Mikko, I have to go. I'll explain later."

Zim patted her knee as he passed, muttering, "We _will_ speak of this later… but be brave and heal soon." With that, he headed out after Dib, doing his best to keep from slamming him over his big fat head with every large blunt object he passed.

…..

The day had turned to evening, and that evening found Riddick in a clearing in the woods, dully poking the fire he'd built and considering his next move. So he hadn't killed the flarling, but did some damage to her. Enough for her to realize her cause was hopeless. He heaved a low sigh, and spoke up. "I know you're here, no need to beat around the bush, let's get this over with."

The fire extinguished itself, and a pair of yellow eyes gleamed from the frame of a shadowy figure standing in the embers. "So, I hear you made the top segment of the Irken Information Network as the mysterious assassin." The sound of a slow clap followed this statement. "Bra-vo. No image. No kill, but no image." His voice sounded like a snake, coiled to strike at any moment.

Boredly, Riddick replied, "Sorry. You failed to mention that the target had a particular color to her person that I despise, and gave me no time to prepare. It stunned me, and it blew my window. She didn't see me, so Ill just kill her next time."

The slow clap came to a halt. The voice continued, as if Riddick hasn't spoken, in a cheerful tone. "I also heard there was an altercation with a certain Morflar, how did that go?"

"How do you think it went? I obliterated her. She knows she can't stop me, and no amount of guards can either. They are all ill equipped to do anything against me, so the target will be eliminated very soon. Then you can go about with whatever you want, and I can go my merry way as well."

The eyes moved closer to Riddick, narrowing. "So tell me, since you are such an expert on Morflars, what are their capabilities? Indulge me."

"I wiped her out with sound. She was just a flarling, I threw contained sound bombs with my power, crippling her and her 'intimidation' factor—"

The voice lowered to a demonic roar. "I DIDN'T ASK FOR HER WEAKNESSES. I ASKED WHAT HER CAPABILITIES ARE."

Riddick finally looked up. "A Morflar, so stealth, shapeshifting, being annoying."

The voice returned to its pleasantness. "Shapeshifting, wonderful, and tell me something. What image will be burned into her mind after you brought her so close to death?"

Pausing, Riddick frowned. "What, you're worried about them knowing what I look like? I already told her that I wanted her to tell anyone she could. They CAN'T stop me. You know that, and this job should be over by the time she's even able to tell anyone in the first place. It doesn't matter. Any Irken or Human who tries to stop me will fail anyway, even if they do know who I am.

The eyes gleamed as the voice sang sweetly, "Including your target?"

"Yes including the…" he blinked. "Wait, your objective was she wasn't supposed to see me. I thought that meant so she couldn't scream out or call for help, a quiet kill. What would it matter if she knows what I look like?"

The eyes moved within inches of Riddick's face, narrowing. "Allow me to enlighten you. If this person lays eyes on you, for any reason, or in any image, she will be able to prevent you from killing her. And I cannot allow that to happen."

"Look, just because this woman is some kind of savior or bond," Riddick's voice dripped with scorn, "Or something else that I don't give a flying flirk about, just because she has a bunch of other mindless Irkens all squabbling around her at her beck and call, doesn't mean that I'll turn into that. Besides, there's no way that Morflar could get to the Massive to show her. I know for a fact, no matter what healing method she used, I still have a window, so this whole problem won't happen in the first place."

The shadowed figure let out a low growl. "You fool. She has a strength you can't begin to comprehend, and she will completely wipe out your will. This is not a warning, this is a fact." The eyes blazed. "Do you understand me? She is not to lay eyes on you!"

Riddick brushed his cloak off. "She won't. She won't get the chance, and anyone that gets in my way will suffer the same fate."

"They had better. If you happen to fail in your next attempt, you'd better hope that window of yours includes permanent damage to the Morflar's shifting abilities."

"I doubt she can even form a sentence. So if that's all, I suppose I need to keep my strength up for the endeavor right?" His eyes took on a hungry glint. "Did you bring anything for me to eat? I am starving."

The eyes pulled back, shining. "As it happens, there's one nearby in the town. As an added bonus, he would gladly stand in your way to the woman."

Riddick snorted. "Oh let me guess. The Flarling probably went right to him, meaning right now he's probably on his way to find transport to the Massive?"

"Hardly. He's running around trying to pull together strands of protection, trying to find out what is attacking. He's even calling your target straight down here."

"Calling her down?" Riddick spluttered. "Is he stupid or something? Irkens are idiots but at least they are far more technological than humans… he's making my job so much easier."

"He is rather stupid, and stubborn, but don't underestimate him. Just because he doesn't have your powers doesn't mean he'll go down easily." The eyes crinkled upward, as if a smile had spread beneath them. "Then again, you do enjoy it when they fight, don't you?"

"Especially when they think they have some hope. I can't believe this, from the Massive to Humans, this is a lamb to the proverbial slaughter."

"It had better be. This is your last chance Riddick."

Tilting his head, Riddick growled, "It will get done."

The figure returned to the fire pit. "So be it." The eyes vanished, and the fire roared to life in their absence.

Shaking his head, Riddick mused, "And here I thought this job would be a bit more difficult. Thank you, you stupid Irken, whoever you are, for making it easier. We're sure to meet soon. And when we do, you can die with the fool woman for your idiotic choice."


	12. Increasing Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first section is slightly out of chronological order, consider it as having come before the conversation between "Yellow Eyes" and Riddick. It's hard to keep everything in order when so much is happening at once, my apologies.

***UNAUTHORIZED EXTERNAL LINK WITH TALLEST RED'S PAK ENGAGED***

***INTERCEPTED FROM TALLEST RED'S PAK***

**E5fz159:** Urgent information my Tallest.

 **M8fr163:** Zim? Report.

 **E5fz159:** There is a murderer who has made an attempt on Gloria's life.

 **M8fr163:** We're aware of this Zim. I've sent Gaz to take care of the problem.

 **E5fz159:** Gaz has been incapacitated.

 **E5fz159:** My Tallest?

 **E5fz159:** My Tallest I need to hear a response!

 **M8fr163:** How?

 **E5fz159:** Unsure. Major injuries sustained, she managed to communicate that the attacker knows a morflar's weakness. She's currently healing herself, but she has seen him, and may be able to replicate his face.

 **M8fr163:** I will be on the next transport down.

 **E5fz159:** Bring Gloria my Tallest.

 **M8fr163:** Is the attacker in the area?

 **E5fz159:** Yes, but as far as he knows, you will continue to be on the Massive. Let him go there for another attempt while you are down here. You know where to go. Lock yourselves down, I will be there as soon as I can. With Gaz.

 **M8fr163:** Transmit to me faces of those who are allowed entry to the location. I'm going to tighten security, and anyone not recognized by the system will be vaporized.

 **E5fz159:** Transmitting now.

 **M8fr163:** We will be there by end of day.

***END OF PAKLINK TRANSMISSION***

…..

Zim kept pace with Dib, who had broken into a flat-out run the second he'd left the ER.

"What happened to my sister? And my Mom?" Dib demanded as they pelted down the street.

"I'll answer that as soon as you tell me what you did to MY sister!" Zim retorted. "Training her without telling Zim, I'll trade your lungs for a moo-toy!"

"You already did that!" Dib snapped. "And she came to me, for the record, asking to be trained. Accidents happen in training, or didn't you ever get hurt?"

Zim flinched, his mind recalling his image in the mirror on the few occasions he'd seen his own body reflected back to him. Why would Dib say something like that? He _knew._ "That's not the point! You didn't tell Zim, I could have helped you take certain precautions. Flirk, I probably could have built a training simulator that would have reduced chance of injury to two percent!"

"Yeah well right now all she needs is a skin graft on her arm, but you're telling me someone deliberately tried to kill my Mom and maybe my sister, SO TALK SPACE SCUM!"

Zim faltered in his step. Dib hadn't called him something truly degrading in a long time. Spaceboy, Lizard Head, and a few others that were meant in playful banter, but not something meant to make him feel low. "There was an attack on Gloria last night. Tallest Red sent Gaz after the attacker, probably because she could scent him out and destroy him. It turns out the attacker knows a morflar's weakness, and crippled her. She's back at your house right now. She can't hold form, but she's healing."

"And you just left her there?"

Resisting the urge to tackle Dib and duke it out right then and there, Zim snarled, " _I_ was the one who left her with a method that seems to be healing her. YOU were the one who was most notably absent from the house, and as she considers YOU her real brother and not Zim, I thought it would be best to fetch her REAL family to be near her!" He drew some satisfaction from Dib's wince. "I have also sent an urgent message to Tallest Red. He and Gloria should be down soon." He watched Dib's expression harden, and flailed his arms in exasperation. "Why are you still angry? We discussed this!"

Dib said nothing as they neared the his house, only slowing at the sight of Tunaghost approaching his door.

"Ghost, what are you here for?" He called.

She turned, catching sight of them. "I'm here for you, actually." She pointed at Zim. "You weren't at your base, or at your home. This was my third guess."

"Apologies, Agent Tunaghost," Zim brushed past to open the door. "But now is not the time, urgent things are happening."

"Yes, and this is urgent."

"It can't be as urgent as the urgent I am currently urgenting." He grabbed the doorknob.

"Zim we have to see DarkBooty. His condition is deteriorating by the hour."

Zim's grip on the doorknob froze. Dib grabbed his shoulders, shoving him aside, and entered the house. Zim stumbled to the side, catching himself on the railing by the door, and turned to Tunaghost, stunned. "Wh… why would you even think… I ever wanted to lay eyes on that human again?"

"There's too many questions Zim." She held out a folder. "I looked through his files. There was a shift in his personality at some point in time. Around his fifties. Before that, there wasn't a breath about alien torture, or human trade-ins, and suddenly it's all over his files. And why did he cut you open, Zim? He'd had Irkens in before, he'd mapped out all their organs, why you?"

Zim gripped the railing, looking ill. "Tunaghost, I don't want—"

"Zim, we have to get these questions answered, and time is running out."

"Look, perhaps next week I'll be in some frame of mind to discuss—"

"We don't have that much time, Zim. He's already been transferred to ICU, but the doctors are stymied as to what's going on. They say he probably won't last the day."

Pausing for a moment, Zim asked, "What is he dying of?"

"They don't know, his face just began burning away, very slowly. And the structure of his face is starting to crumble inward, or so they say, toward his brain."

Zim paled a moment. From inside, he heard Dib yell, "Zim, what did you do to help? I need to increase it, she's hysterical! Get in here!"

Zim glanced in through the door, then back at Tunaghost. Turning back, he called, "Musics, Dib, all classical and soothing musics, that is all I know. I have to go, I will return later."

Outraged, Dib shouted, "Zim you moron! You can't just leave, we have to help her!"

"There isn't anything else I can do, and anything I can do, you could also do. I will return later!" With that, he slammed the door. He stared down at the porch for a moment. "I don't want to see him. I never wanted to see his face again."

Tunaghost remained silent, letting Zim process his thoughts.

"This is the only time, though, isn't it?"

"It is." She affirmed.

Turning, he nodded. "Then let us visit DarkBooty."


	13. Reaching Past Trauma

_Hold it together. Just a little longer._

Tallest Red swept down the hall, a stony expression on his face, heading directly for Lady Gloria's recreational room.

_What could take Gaz down?_

_How do they know her weakness?_

_How did they know the code that isn't even recorded anywhere?_

_FOCUS!_

He knocked on the door, stepping back a pace as he waited for it to open. The door slid aside as Gloria palmed the lock from the other side. Stepping aside, she waited for him to come in, her spine stiff as he passed her. He glanced at her, noting she still refused the Irken ceremonial clothing, continuing to wear the few sets of clothes she'd brought from Earth. Long-sleeved shirts and paint-spattered jeans. He made a mental note to have more Earth clothing brought up to the Massive. In the corner, two guards stood watch. Or rather, one stood at attention, while the other gazed oddly at the painting Gloria had been working on. Noting Red's entrance, the second guard quickly pulled himself back to attention.

Red ignored the lapse, and flicked his hands, dismissing the guards. Once they had left, he motioned to the door. "Please, I need to speak to you in private."

Gloria made no move to close the door. "You can say what you have to say."

"Lady Gloria, I have no way of knowing who is watching or listening. The more privacy we can maintain for this conversation, the better."

She still made no move to close the door. He rubbed his face. "I'd hoped to be able to tell you this under more peaceful circumstances…" He crossed over to her, stopping just short. "Hold out your ring-hand."

She raised the hand, holding it slightly away from herself. He took it carefully, and pointed to a small indent in the side. "Close your hand into a fist, and point the flat side toward a wall. Then press this indent." He released her hand and stepped back.

Following his instructions, she aimed the flat of the ring at the opposite wall, pressing the indent. A thin laser-beam shot out, drilling a hole in the opposite wall. She released it, startled. Immediately it stopped.

"If you press the indentation on the other side, it encloses you in a body-tight force field. I built that into the wedding-circle myself. It's a measure of personal defense, should you need it, that isn't readily visible to your opponent." He gestured toward the door, tiredly. "Now, if you feel I am about to stand and attack you, then by all means fire, but we must speak in private."

Silently, she pressed her hand against the panel, sliding the door shut. As she did, Red leaned down, placing a small marble on the floor. The marble split into three and rolled to different parts of the room, each smaller marble sprouting legs to scale the walls. Each mounted a different camera in the room, crimping onto the top and glowing. "The Control Room will be having temporary technical difficulties." He rubbed his face. "We have a few minutes." He dropped heavily into a chair, staring blankly at the floor.

Across from him, Gloria settled into a seat, her posture still stiff. "What did you want to talk about?"

He continued to stare at the floor, as if he could pull answers from it. "I asked Gaz to find out who attacked you. Morflars have a keen sense of smell, and it's likely it was an Irken. I have just received word from Zim that Gaz has been incapacitated by your attacker."

Gloria rose from her seat. "Incapacitated? What does that mean?"

"Morflars are highly sensitive to certain sonic frequencies. It doesn't have to be a loud sound, but sound at a certain pitch can scramble their minds, incapacitate them, and prolonged exposure will kill them." He cut her off as she took a breath, "Zim said she has already begun to heal herself. He advises we return to Earth immediately. Gaz has seen your attacker, and we may be able to identify him, or at least take some kind of precaution. He thinks the attacker will make another strike at the Massive, and that Earth may be safer for the time being." He closed his eyes wearily. "We need to leave in secret. No one on board can know where we've gone."

"Why is that?"

He opened his eyes. "A morflar's weakness is highly guarded information in the Irken empire, Lady Gloria. Very few know that weakness, and those who know it are all aboard this vessel. The passcode to your door, as well, is information no one should know, yet somehow it is known. I do not trust anyone here. The assassin may have an informant here."

"You wouldn't happen to know why someone is so intent on killing me, would you?" Her question was toneless, and he glanced up in surprise. Her face held little expression as she stared at him. For some reason, this twisted in his guts all wrong. She wasn't afraid of her murderer, she never had been. It was almost as if she barely cared.

_Is her situation here really so terrible?_

_It isn't her situation here. It's the memories._

He dropped his head down into his claws.

_Hold it together._

_Hold it together._

_Hold—_

"What can I do?" He rasped, digging his claws into his scalp. "What do you want me to do?"

Silence.

"I can't change anything. If I could go back and hand you a blaster, I might just do that. But I can't." He gave a bleak chuckle. "Our Time-Object replacement technology never did stabilize." Images flashed through his mind, tiny wailing bodies flung through the portal over and over again, to meet various horrible fates. His claws sank deeper into his scalp. "I can't change anything." His voice cracked. "What can I do? Tell me…"

Silence.

_Of course._

He raised his head, standing and turning toward the door to avoid looking at her. "Pack lightly." He set a small black patch on a table as he passed. "Put this on when they're not looking. Act like it's your first day, and say you need to clean the escape pods. Some dumb drone ejects themselves at least once a week, no one will question it. I will meet you there in two hours." He waited at the door. She opened it for him, still silent, as he exited. Pivoting on one heel, he turned toward their quarters. Before they left, he wanted some viewing material for the trip.

_Footage of Purple's "suicide" should do nicely._

…

All the way to the hospital, Zim didn't say a word. He fidgeted with the tatters of his sweater as Tunaghost pulled into a parking spot.

Darkbooty, she'd explained, had begun to show signs of mental deterioration the first week in prison. He'd gone from forgetting which cell was his, to forgetting his name, to forgetting coherent word structure. He'd been released to the care of an asylum until yesterday, when he'd begun to scream incoherently, and his face began peeling back. At that point, he'd been taken to the ICU, where his condition worsened no matter what they did. All they could do, Ghost concluded, was to drug him as much as possible for the pain. But he was still screaming.

"And we are supposed to get answers from him in this state how?" Zim demanded, exiting the car and slamming the door.

"I don't know Zim, but there has to be something, some kind of clue, maybe in some of the words he screams? We can't just leave this at a dead end!"

"Maybe some answers are better left unknown." He kicked at a piece of crumbled concrete.

"I'm not satisfied with that." Tunaghost turned, walking toward the hospital doors. "If you came all this way to stay in the car, fine. But I'm getting something."

Cursing, Zim hurried after her. "You and your stupid questioning."

"Yes, well, bull-headed Irkens may be immune to my questions, but maybe not Booty." She pulled up to the front desk, stopping long enough to flash her government ID and ask for an escort to ICU.

The hall smelled of antiseptic and swabbing alcohol. The walls were white and sterile. Metal trays rattled down the hall, carrying clinking instruments that Zim shied from in passing. And somewhere someone was screaming.

His footsteps dragged, and the hall seemed to stretch out longer and wider than it was supposed to. He knew what was happening, his mind was playing tricks on him, but he couldn't stop it. Tunaghost, unaware, was already a ways ahead, and getting farther away. He was going to be frozen in the middle of the hallway soon, unable to move.

Sweat broke out across his forehead. _I can't be weak. Not here. Not now._ His eyes fixed on Tunaghost's back. Della wasn't here. Mikko and Tiana couldn't bolster him. He couldn't use Tom as his guide right now. Even Dib wasn't there to insult him.

_Can I trust her?_

His body responded before his mouth did, his right arm reaching out. "Ghost…" his voice was thin and strained. He tried again, a little louder. "Tuna…ghost…"

Her head turned, and she caught sight of him. Immediately she stopped and veered back. He could hear her muttering to herself, "I keep telling them they need therapists, not magic experts, stupid aliens don't listen." She pulled up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Zim, you okay?"

He stared at her, her idiotic question mocking him. She grimaced, "Dumb question, sorry. Come on. There's an outside walkabout exit up ahead, few more steps okay?"

He nodded, moving forward on legs like rubber. The screaming and tray rattling echoed and re-echoed in his head over and over. Tunaghost opened the door for him, and he passed out from the sterile white halls into a small green courtyard. The door hissed shut behind him, blocking out the sounds. Immediately he felt some of the cramping in his gut release, and he sank to a bench heavily.

"Bad trigger, huh?" Ghost sighed from beside him. "Guess I didn't think that part through. I'm sorry Zim."

"It's stupid." He growled. "I was just in a miniature-hospital to see Mikko. I had no difficulty then."

"Well, if Mikko was in the hospital, I'm going to guess your mind was on her, not on you." Tunaghost remarked, "And probably nobody was screaming."

Zim considered this, then nodded. "That sounds about right."

He could feel Tunaghost staring at him as he collected himself. "Can you do this? I really wasn't thinking how much the setting would affect you, I wouldn't blame you if you jetted back over to the car, or however you do that."

He gave a short chuckle. "That would cause widespread heart attacks at all the windows now, wouldn't it?" He stood. "It's alright Agent Tunaghost. I think I'm a little more prepared."

She nodded, standing with him. Together they re-entered the hall. Zim's antennae flicked at the screams, but he set his jaw and moved forward.

After what seemed like an eternity, they entered the ICU. Following the sounds, they came up to a bedside, pulling back the curtain.

Zim's eyes widened, taking in the damage. They hadn't exaggerated, the upper half of Darkbooty's face had boiled away, and what was left had sunk inward a few centimeters. He turned away, trying to hold down a heave.

"Well. That confirms that." He mumbled, breathing slowly through his mouth. "I killed Darkbooty."

….

"Gaz, I keep telling you, it's Dib! It's me, why are you doing this?"

_"Who are you?"_

Dib ground his teeth. The inky puddle continued to evade him, dragging the CD player wherever it flowed. Since he'd come through the door, Gaz hadn't allowed him within two feet of her.

_This is his fault too. All his fault. He got my Dad killed. He almost got my Mom killed. Now he's trying to get my sister killed, or take my place, I don't know what. This is going too far._

_"Who are you?"_ The wail rang through his mind, as Gaz darted under the table.

"I'm Dib, Gaz!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the table, denting it.

_"No! No you're not, go away!"_

Dib turned, storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

_Zim will pay. I don't care what I have to do, Zim will pay for all of this._


	14. Intensive Care

"Knock it off, Zim, you didn't do this. It started happening yesterday, and you haven't seen him since the court date, right?"

"Agent Tunaghost," Zim took a breath and straightened, keeping his back to the screaming old man. "If you have been going through files and footage from the Eyeball, then you saw the interaction between myself and Darkbooty in the hall, correct?"

"The sound was garbled, but I saw, yeah."

"Then you saw the part where I grabbed two blasters and shot him point blank in the face."

"What? No, you missed, you had to, he wouldn't have survived that!"

He turned his head to stare at her. "Agent Tunaghost. Me. Ex-Invader Zim. Missing a point-blank shot at someone who had just about gutted me. Reconsider your words."

"But…" She turned to look at Darkbooty. "He was just fine afterwards! And for weeks… why now?"

"There was something else." He turned. "I haven't had time to consider it much lately, and I've had no inclination to come discuss it with him. But after the shots… his eyes were yellow. Not white, like a normal hyuman's. And he said he was heavily protected for some reason." His eyes shifted to Tunaghost. "Zim is not the expert on paranormal activity, Agent. With that description, what would you say happened?"

Tunaghost's face had drained of color. "It fits," she murmured. "The sudden change in behavior, and this… he was possessed."

"Possessed," Zim prompted, "What owned his body then?" He turned back to Booty. "Whatever it was, it left him. And took its protection with it. Along with his wits. And because of that…" his hands shook a little. "I have killed… am… killing Darkbooty. Very slowly." He pointed to the mess of a head. "From the description, I had suspicions. But this is what a plasma blaster would do, in slow motion. Two blasts, here and here."

"So there's nothing that can be done," she sighed. "Past injury is catching up and he's going to die no matter what, is that what you're saying?"

Zim blinked for a moment, and his head whipped up toward Tunaghost. "You mentioned that there was a sudden shift in behavior for Darkbooty, correct? That he began behaving strangely, different than normal?"

"Yes, I said that."

"And that it happened out of nowhere?"

"It seemed to, I didn't note a trigger anywhere in his files, but who knows?"

"Darkbooty does." Zim turned to the man, a sudden urgency in his voice. "Darkbooty can tell us."

"How can he tell us anything? He can't even think straight."

"He will." A wire slid out from Zim's PAK. "Find a magic that will help his thoughts, like you did for Red."

"Red was different!" Tunaghost protested. "His mind was all there, just fractured. Darkbooty's completely shattered!"

"I don't have time for excuses!" He pulled the curtain closed around the bed, cutting them off from view of the nurses. The wire plunged into the back of Darkbooty's skull. "Even if we get a fragment from him it will help confirm or deny."

"Confirm or deny what? What are you doing?"

"Just make magic!"

Tunaghost huffed, pulling a small notebook out of her pocket and flipping through. As Zim probed Darkbooty's skull, she began a low chant.

His bones were old and brittle with age. It wasn't hard to bore a small hole through the back of the skull. Zim sent out searches onto the human information network, the "internet" as they called it, and gathered as much information on the brain as he could skim in seconds. With that, he slid the wire along the brain tissue until it reached a certain spot. Tiny claws extended from the tip of the wire, and within seconds, Darkbooty's screaming had decreased to low moaning.

Zim retracted the wire, disgustedly grabbing the sheet at the edge of the bed to clean it. Tunaghost faltered in her chant, staring at him. Zim glanced up, and shook his head. "I merely destroyed the pain centers in his brain. He will not be needing them in a few hours, and we need answers."

Turning to Darkbooty, he took a deep breath, bracing himself, then said harshly, "Darkbooty. Can you hear me? Do you hear Zim?" Darkbooty did nothing to acknowledge Zim. The Irken frowned, calling his name again with no results. "Tunaghost, what is his name?"

The chanting dropped away suddenly. "Zim, I can't tell you that. None of us go by our real names anymore. Mothman was a rare exception, it's hard to disguise the fact that he's the son of the great Professor Membrane, but our names are sworn to secrecy between ourselves."

"Between yourselves. So you know each others' real names." He could hear her shifting. "Agent Tunaghost, he has hours to live, if that. I need to reach him somehow. His name."

She hesitated a moment longer, before replying reluctantly, "Derek Bends."

Immediately the elderly man's head turned in her direction, the moaning fading for a moment. Zim seized on the moment. "Derek Bends, do you know what is happening? Do you know what has happened to you?" He could hear Tunaghost picking up the chant again.

The ruined face moved back and forth, as if searching for sight that was no longer there. The mouth moved slowly, "Dark… so…. Dark…"

Zim shook his head. He refused to feel sorry for this lump of disgusting flesh in front of him. "Do you remember anything about what was happening? Do you know who was controlling you?"

Darkbooty's body stiffened, his gnarled hands clutching the sheets as if in mortal terror. "Fly…. Moth… fly…." Zim's antennae flicked up, his eyes narrowing. "Fly away… he's coming…"

"Who?" Zim grabbed his wrist harshly. "Who's coming for the moth?"

Booty gasped, his heart monitor spiking hard. The curtain ripped back, and Zim was pulled aside as a doctor and several nurses congregated around, pumping air into his lungs and jolting his heart. Tunaghost's voice fell silent as she watched them attempt to bring the now flat line back to a steady rhythm.

Zim's eyes were narrowed to slits. Darkbooty had at the very least another several hours to live. There had been nothing wrong with his heart. His eyes never left the corpse that the Doctor finally pronounced him to be, before they all slipped away to make arrangements for the body. He moved forward, claiming his place at Booty's bedside again, before opening his mouth.

"You just had to cut him off, didn't you?" His voice came out as a hateful hiss. The body did not move, the heart monitor still reading flat.

"Who are you talking to?" Ghost asked, worried.

Zim ignored her. "Couldn't let me hear what he was going to say, or do you just take enjoyment in me getting so close to what I need and falling short?"

The lips curled slightly upward, showing teeth stained with age and chipped with use. Tunaghost gasped, eyes darting to the heart monitor, which still read flat. Zim never took his eyes off the face.

"Who are you?" He grated. "Who are you, and what do you have to do with Mothman?"

Slowly, the hand lifted up to the face, pressing a solitary finger against the smiling lips. There came a slow, sibiliant whisper. "Shhhhhhh…. Spoilers…" before the arm dropped, limp.

Turning on his heel, Zim darted for the ICU doors.

"What's going on?" Tunaghost shouted, running after him as fast as she could.

Zim didn't answer. He didn't have time. He had to get to Dib as fast as possible. Maybe it wasn't too late.


	15. Midair Conflicts

It was ironic, Gloria thought, that given how long she'd been off-planet in her life, she'd never actually seen space, or Earth from a distance. Now she stared at the Earth in front of her, getting larger every second, and the bits of space debris that flashed past as Red navigated the pod.

Pack lightly, he'd said. It wasn't as if she'd come to the Massive with much to begin with. She pulled her shoulder strap bag close. She'd folded into it a couple sets of clothes, a blanket, and a sketchbook. If she stayed longer on Earth, she could pick up the paints at her home and use those.

She'd slipped on the holographic patch in the bathroom and left for the escape pod bay. Nobody had questioned the new Irken in their midst, and one drone even shoved cleaning supplies at her as she entered the pod. Not long after, a short drone entered the pod, sealing the door, and sending them off. Both had removed their patches as soon as the pod entered open space.

_What can I do?_

She shut her eyes, all too aware of Red just a couple feet to her left. There were so many ways that question could be understood.

_What can I do to fix it?_

_What can I do to set it right?_

_What can I do to earn your forgiveness?_

She rested her forehead on her knees. It wasn't as if she didn't see the change. Given time to think and process, she could begin to accept the changes that she'd seen ever since she came to find out who Scar really was. And even then, his behavior as Scar had been unlike anything she'd ever known from Red. She could see this, and accept it—until he stepped into view. Even now she could feel her muscles had locked up, her chest held tight, and a cold, sick feeling swelled in the pit of her stomach.

He hadn't said a word to her since entering the pod, choosing to focus on the monitors and equipment. His knees were also drawn to his chest, but more by necessity than choice. His body curled over, uncomfortably hunched to fit the smaller confines of the vessel, but he still managed the controls by reaching past his knees.

She resumed staring forward as they entered Earth's atmosphere, her thoughts anywhere but on the planet they were about to return to. Briefly, she wondered if she was incapable of seeing Red as anything other than the monster who had raped her and stolen her children. To her surprise, she found the idea deeply unacceptable. Frowning, she probed that response.

He had done something unforgivable, and that for a very long time. But ever since he had reappeared as Scar, he had done everything to ensure her safety and space. The only time he had touched her had been to keep her from falling, the formal wedding kiss, and a few scattered occurrences since. Each of which she had given her consent for. It seemed, in fact, that he took great pains to maintain a distance from her unless absolutely necessary.

And his question to her hours earlier…

_What can I do?_

Nothing. There was nothing more he could do. She had to sort the question in herself until she came to some conclusion. And the conclusion, she determined, would be to move forward, if at all possible. She'd made it this far moving forward. Living in the past had nearly destroyed her. She glanced to the side. If she continued to live in the past, it might destroy him as well. And he was leading an entire race.

A race that badly needed a change in its leaders. Under constant guard in the last couple of days, she'd seen things she could hardly believe. Some were small things, like the reaction of her miniature army to the painting she was working on. At first, they'd just stared at her, shifting glances amongst themselves, until one finally stepped forward, timidly asking, "Lady Gloria, what is this?"

Not one had ever seen a painting, or someone creating a piece of art.

Others had been much larger, more glaring issues. She'd passed a table-headed service drone, and the guards in her wake had shoved him to the wall, barking at him for "Being in Lady Gloria's way!" She'd reprimanded them, telling them they weren't to treat another Irken like that. They had just stared at her in confusion.

"But he's short." One had replied, scratching his head. "And a drone at that. They should know better than to be in the way."

"Or near a ruler." The other added.

"What does his height have to do with anything?" Gloria asked in confusion. All she'd received were dumbfounded stares.

There was more at stake than her harboring the past. She had a chance, if not to change the immediate course of Irken history, to at least plant seeds of change that could grow later.

And yet it all hinged on her being able to move past what the Irken race—and Tallest Red—had done to her.

She closed her eyes again. _It isn't fair._

Her head slammed against the side of the pod, jolting her eyes open. The view out the window of the pod spun crazily. Beside her, Red cursed, wide-eyed as he stretched to reach the controls. His PAK opened up, sending out wires into the ceiling and wall beside him. "We've been hit." He said grimly. "Someone knew we were coming."

She braced herself, trying not to focus on the spinning view as he shouted, "Shielding!" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a glowing blue film cover the view as the spinning slowed. Smoke trailed past the pod window. Something flashed at the edge of her vision, and she turned back to the window to see a glowing red bolt slam into the blue shielding. Red gasped, his hands clutching the controls. She stared at him.

"Are YOU shielding this?"

"Pods don't come equipped with weapons shielding!" He snapped, "Just basic atmospheric entry protection!"

Three more bolts slammed the shielding, each one creating a temporary gap before it closed up again. Red grimaced. "I can't hold this… I'm sorry." He reached over, crossing the distance and yanking her close. Before she could react, he reached into his armor, pulling out a small blue cube. Closing his hand around it, he crumbled it to dust.

There was a flash of blue, a tang of copper on her tongue, and suddenly they were falling from the sky—minus the pod. Red still had ahold of her, but the ground was rushing up to meet them. She clutched his arm, unable to draw breath for a scream, when their descent began to slow. She could hear thrusters sputtering just behind her, sporadically jetting on and off as they fought the pull of gravity. They were still falling too fast!

A few yards above the ground, Red twisted them around. Gloria stared at the sky, a split second of realization crossing her mind before they hit the ground with a sickening crunch. She rolled several feet, coming to a rest face-up, the air driven from her lungs. She stared upward again, gasping for oxygen, as she saw a trail of smoke far to the left in the sky, plummeting downward. Her mind pieced together a few words.

_Teleport_

_Fall_

_Crunch_

_Red!_

She flailed, trying to push herself up. Pain shot up her left arm as she moved it. She managed to sit upright using her right arm, but tilted forward immediately. Instinctively, she put out both arms to catch herself, and her left arm folded underneath her. The air had not returned to her, and she could not scream.

She lay there a few moments, before reaching out a shaking right arm and dragging herself forward, propelling herself with her knees. She lifted her face, black sucking at the edges of her vision. She shook her head. She would _not_ faint now.

She could see him, close by. He lay where he had fallen, his claws grasping spastically at the sky. The closer she pulled herself, the sicker she felt. His armor was cracked and dented, and she could see his spine bent in more than one direction. Broken bones were visibly poking out from his arms, and his legs only twitched. His PAK was flashing desperately, and she could see wires reaching out, grabbing any nearby object—rocks, twigs, sticks—and sucking it back into his PAK. Was this some kind of healing method?

She didn't have time to wonder. She was just starting to be able to breathe again, and whatever had shot them down would be looking for them. Glancing around, she saw they'd landed by a shoreline cliff side. Red couldn't help her right now. She had to figure out how to get them to safety, and fast.


	16. Backstage Passes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written as a light hearted break to inform people I needed to take a month off from writing, but at the time of this posting the story is complete so I only include it for laughs.

"Medic!" Tunaghost called, sighing. "Near fatality. Again. Better patch him up, he's back in two scenes."

As Gloria struggled to pull Red farther behind the curtain, Tom walked forward, picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. He jerked his head over to the mini-hospital in the far corner. "Better get that arm looked at."  
Gloria nodded, wincing as she limped over. Tom followed with Red's broken frame.

Red tilted his head, pained, and asked, "Is she forcing me do penance for things SHE made me do?" Tom shrugged, and Red gasped, "The ribs, careful!"

"What I'D like to know," Zim growled from the corner, strapping on a pair of stilts, "Is what sort of script calls for me to grow TWO WHOLE FEET without explanation? I mean seriously, and how am I supposed to fight him," he threw an accusatory finger at the red-cloaked figure leaning against the wall, "In stilts?! You tell Zim!"

"Oh don't worry," Riddick flipped slowly through an unmarked book. "I'm sure the makeup artist will only have to apply twelve more scars when we're through anyway."

"I won't give you the chance to get that many shots." Zim fumed. "I'll beat you so badly, you'll have to get your understudy to do the next scene."

"I killed all my understudies." Riddick flicked an antennae. "Don't you read the script? I'm a method actor. If it calls for a killer Irken, well, I have to practice somewhere."

"Not funny Riddick." Zim muttered, staggering to his feet.

"Dib, for the tenth time, I know it was an accident." Mikko patted Dib's shoulder as they walked past. "I'm fine though, really. They've got a great medical center over there."

"Yeah, for all the injuries this production causes, they'd better." Dib bit his lip.

"If nothing else, you got to practice your improv skills." She smiled. "They're getting better."

"Yeah, but I don't think Zim was acting when he burst in ready to tear my head off." Dib glanced at Zim out of the corner of his eye. "It's a wonder he slipped back into the script at all…"

"This is stupid." A small black puddle on the floor groused. "Can we just quit or something? Go somewhere else to a slightly more NORMAL production?"

Dib paled, raising a finger to his lips. "You know what happened LAST time we tried to leave, Gaz, c'mon."

The edge of the shadow peeled back, revealing Gaz's face under a black cloth. She frowned. "Yeah, we got sent through some alternate crazy-ville where everything was all smiles and singing flowers and pregnant aliens. So? We survived."

"Do you really want to provoke her to do worse?" Dib whispered, eyes darting around.

Gaz sighed, dropping the cloth back over herself. "Guess not. Just keep your girlfriend's crazy sister away from me. I'm nobody's makeup and hair practice."

Suddenly a sign dropped down behind the curtains. Riddick walked over, lifting the sign to the light. "Out to lunch. Back next month." He turned his head slightly. "Seems you get a small reprieve from losing, Zim."

"Why you!" Zim flailed forward, his stilts hitting the ground with a little peg-peg-peg-peg sound. "Get over here and we'll see who loses!"

"That's a long lunch break." Della put her hands on her hips. "What are we supposed to do until next month?"

"Recover!" Red gasped from a medical bed. "Recovery would be nice."

"Agreed… I need a vacation too." Gloria winced as her arm was set and splinted.

"What do you have to complain about?" Membrane flailed his arms. "I've been back here with NOTHING to do for a story and a half! It gets really boring after awhile!"

"Not true," DarkBooty grinned. "All your boredom produced some killer special effects, how'd you come up with the inverted melting facemask?"

"Oh, well," Membrane straightened proudly. "I'd be more than happy to discuss the finer aspects of that particular scientific breakthrough with you and anyone else who would care to—" Within seconds, the backstage was deserted, save for Professor Membrane, DarkBooty, and Tallest Red. Even Gloria had managed to slip away. "Ah. I see how it is. Well then, Tallest Red, how about you, me, and Darkbooty talk about the amazing breakthroughs in our special effects?"

Red gaped. "She IS putting me through some kind of penance!"


	17. Collision Course

Riddick strolled idly through the forest, searching for the downed escape pod. He knew he hit it, the question was, would they be dead on the ground? That wouldn't be any fun, but then again, it wouldn't matter, it would just make his job easier.

So of course that wouldn't be the case.

Following the plume of smoke he found a clearing full of flaming debris, and quickly strolled over. A quick search turned up nothing, no signs of a body, not even scattered body parts, which could only mean they were on the run. They couldn't be 100 percent after such a crash, even if the Tallest was driving.

He closed his eyes, stretching his sense outward, feeling for a PAK power source. If the Tallest was injured, his PAK would be trying to heal him, and would be giving off an energy signature. But try as he might, he could not sense the Tallest's PAK. Was he dead? No, that made no sense. The woman wouldn't drag off a corpse that heavy if she knew she needed to get away, so why couldn't he sense the Tallest?

He shook his head. It didn't matter. If he couldn't sense the Tallest's PAK, he had two options. He could try and track them blind, or pry the information out of the Irken _He_ had mentioned earlier. He could feel _that_ Irken's power signature clearly, darting around frantically like a rat seeking cover. Turning back toward the city, he began making his way back into it. "Might as well kill what I can sense first. If the Tallest and the woman are injured, I'll find them soon enough."

…

"Zim, do you know what a huge logical leap you're making?" Tunaghost's longer legs kept up easily with Zim's frantic scurry back toward the Membrane house. "Think for two seconds!"

"No!" He snapped. "YOU think, what did you just see? You just saw a dead person speak to me, confirming your theory of possession, and he was trying to warn Mothman-Dib!-before he died. You haven't spoken with the Dib recently, have you?"

"No, but-"

"But nothing! Ever since Gloria was taken to the Massive he has held anger at Zim. I spoke with him as you suggested, and things seemed well, he even admitted as such, and today suddenly he is angry with Zim again as if we never spoke. He has a sudden shift in behavior, becoming hostile toward Zim with no warning when it seemed all was made clear again. If it is nothing, Tunaghost, I will be extremely happy. But if it is something, I need to get there NOW to warn my brother! Is there anything you know of to break possessions?" Zim demanded as they continued. "Any spell or curse or magical dust?"

"There are a few incantations that can loosen a controlling grip, but I didn't study anything more powerful than that," Tunaghost admitted.

"But you're the magics expert!" Zim protested. "Magic this away!"

"Zim, not everything can be magicked away!" Tunaghost snapped, "It doesn't work like that, and we don't even know if that's the problem. For all you know, he's just angry and you didn't resolve the situation as well as you thought.

"Yes, and the corpse whispering 'Shhhh spoilers' at me was just a fig-newton of Zim's imagination too, I suppose!" He returned sharply.

Both had kept up a steady run since leaving the hospital, and neither stopped as they passed a red-cloaked figure on the street, their raised voices covering his quiet-spoken remark.

"I'm not saying it was your imagination, I saw it too, I'm just saying it doesn't mean that Dib is possessed!" Tunaghost argued.

"It doesn't mean he isn't either!"

A red-cloaked figure appeared directly in front of Zim, in a flash of red. "It's quite rude not to listen to the person who's come here to kill you. I mean really, common—" His sentence cut off as Zim plowed into him, the two falling back from each other. "—courtesy." The Irken stood to his feet, calmly grabbing his hat and dusting it off. "You know, when I shot down that woman's ship, I thought I wanted to find them right away, that I should kill them first. But I couldn't find them, and now I'm glad I chose to kill you first. Because now, I'm mad, and I'm going to make you suffer."

Zim put a hand to his head, as if steadying himself, but his mind had been working on the situation a second before he smacked into the Irken. In the time it took him to collide with the strange Irken and fall to the ground, he had recognized his face from Gaz's panicked thoughts. This was the Irken who had the power to create 'something out of nothing,' whatever that meant, and was assigned to kill Gloria. Had already tried a second time, but failed according to his own admission, which meant Gloria and Red were taking shelter somewhere until they could find their way to Zim.

Tunaghost had pulled to a stop and come back, crouching down to pull him up as he continued processing. The Irken could only be here because he knew of some connection between them and Zim, and he had come to force that information out of him. If this Irken was powerful enough to cripple Gaz, Zim realized he was already doomed on his own. He needed help, but he needed Gaz. He doubted Tunaghost would be able to help, spoken spells were useless if one's throat was slit before they could be spoken. He decided it would be best to underplay his skills, and overplay his idiocy to buy time.

Glancing over, he blinked at the Irken, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, another one of you. Do you think you are the only bounty hunter around?" He flicked his hands dismissively. "Go away, I have no time to sign autographs."

Tunaghost stared at Zim, confused, as the Irken scoffed, "Oh you're a cute one. You know exactly who I am, you little twit." He tapped his head. "When you ran into me, I saw your thoughts flash by. You recognized me instantly. And you? I know you're the meddlesome little Irken trying to interfere with my plans of killing that woman and the Tallest. Your trying to downplay yourself will get you nowhere fast. Well, perhaps I shouldn't say that. It'll just get you into your grave faster. Or my stomach."

Zim frowned. What the flirk was that supposed to mean, in his stomach? Idiotic. Whatever the stranger had planned though, Tunaghost didn't have a good chance of defending herself, not against this opponent. Dropping the act, he turned to her, and ordered, "Be on your way, drone. You can inform the Dib-monster I'll beat his filthy hide later, and that I'll be late for his stupid dinner thing." Gaz, of course, would be listening, he hoped.

"Zim, I swear if you don't tell me what's going on and what you're talking about—"

Zim pushed himself up a couple more feet and struck her sharply across the face. "Don't question me slave!" He hissed. Zim's recognition of the stranger may have somehow passed across into his thoughts, but no thoughts of Tunaghost had been present, and for all the stranger knew, Tunaghost was only an earth-slave. "If nobody responds, just shout up the stairs or something. They're usually busy upstairs." She'd stumbled back a little, shocked by his aggression, and he winced internally at the expression on her face.

"Oh what a shame." The stranger opened one hand, and a red sword appeared in his grasp—out of nowhere. "I thought I'd be able to add an extra casualty to my list. Do you really have to go?"

Zim cursed, reaching into his PAK in anticipation of Tunaghost's response.

"Zim, don't you need—" he cut her off, pressing the muzzle of a blaster to her temple.

"This sort of questioning behavior is what got my other slaves killed. I'm being exceptionally generous. Now get out of here and deliver my lateness-to-dinner message." He watched as she glanced back to the stranger, then turned to run. She wasn't stupid, he reasoned with his guilt, she had to know what he was doing. He turned his blaster on his opponent, sizing him up. "So, pulling an act gets me nothing. Fine. Then you know just as easily you'll get nothing from me. I don't break for scum like you."

The Irken flicked an antenna. "Oh, scum. Big word. Not anywhere near as harsh as yours. Your little headband fell off when we clunked heads, Mekrelmar."

Zim's free hand flew up to his forehead, mortification clutching his chest as his claws passed over bare, engraved skin. The hand holding the blaster was no longer steady.

"No wonder you're such a nuisance. Irkens are already lowly, but every now and then they have to think up a new word for someone even more lowly than they are. That's quite an accomplishment, an impressive feat. I'm sure they'll carve it on your tombstone."

Zim's eye twitched, resisting the compulsion to search for the bandage. If he turned his back, he'd be fully vulnerable, and he had to stall. "Who are you?" He growled. "You see my thoughts, you make things out of nothing, and for some Irk-forsaken reason you want to murder a human woman, who likely committed no crime against you."

"I'm just doing a job. Think of it as a debt I'm repaying." The Irken stretched. "I don't ask why. I owe it to them, that's what matters. If killing a human, a Tallest, and you will repay this debt, then I can do that. So I shall."

"That is not permissible." The barrel of Zim's blaster glowed. "I don't care what kind of stupid fancy sword you have. I've faced things a lot scarier than you."

"Oh I'm sure you have, in theory, but you have no idea what I am capable of. With the power I have, you are nothing but an ant."

"And what are you supposed to be?" Zim gestured at him, contemptuously. "Some kind of cut-rate no-name magician? Hardly the getup of a killer."

The stranger's eyes flickered slightly at mention of the word "Magician." His eyes narrowed. "Your insults could use some work, but then again you are afraid for your life, and the lives of those you care about."

Zim seized on the slip, forcing his mouth to curl into a grin. "Zim cares for no one and nothing, Magician." He drew out the word deliberately. "Zim holds loyalty to the Tallest and his purposes, that is all."

"Your voice is like a cheese grater being rubbed against animal skin, you know."

"So I've been told. And you look like the wrong end of a Hogulus, so there."

The magician shook his head. "You really are staving for a good comeback. Me? I'm just starving."

Blinking, it clicked in Zim's mind that this was the second time the Irken had mentioned… he shook it off. That was foolish. His eyes flicked around. They were already drawing quite a few stares from pedestrians, and cars were slowing down to watch. An alley would do, plenty of tall ugly buildings nearby. Lots of surfaces to climb and rebound off of. And no extra casualties. He extended his spiderlegs. "I haven't sparred in awhile either." That was what the Irken must have meant, after all, that he was starving for a fight. "Let's see what you're made of." With that, he darted around a corner, and into a nearby alley, trailed closely by the red-cloaked magician.


	18. Taste of Fear

Tunaghost didn't bother knocking on the door of the Membrane household, a quick twist of the knob letting her know the door wasn't locked. She stumbled in. "Di—Mothman!" She called loudly. "Agent Mothman?" A quick scan of the room revealed nothing of note, except a CD player abandoned in the middle of the floor, playing Mozart. She headed for the stairs, shouting upstairs, "Zim said he'd be late for dinner! Is that some kind of code? He's about to get into a fight with another Irken and he sent me off pretty forcibly. Whatever fight you two are having, you need to drop it now, he needs help!"

Something moved in the corner of her eye, and a stiff breeze blew past her. She whirled around, searching for whatever had moved, but nothing seemed out of place.

If Mothman wasn't responding… if he wasn't even here… Zim had sent her here to get Gaz's help? If he needed Gaz's help… he was in worse trouble than she thought. She flung her clipboard at the wall.

"Why doesn't that stupid alien TELL me anything?"

…

The first move Zim made was to bound up the side of the alley wall, scaling it with his spiderlegs. The magician rose beside him, standing on a red platform. "So, how's that trying to avoid me thing working ou—"

The second Zim noted the flash of red at the corner of his eye, he had turned to slam his body into it, trusting his instincts. The magician shifted back, allowing Zim's body to pass him, and grabbed Zim's arms, sending a shockwave through his body. "Let's see how you like some shock therapy."

Zim's muscles contracted spastically, and his thoughts ripped back to the torture sessions that led up to his public branding. The Irken released him, shaking his head as Zim fell to the platform. "Well, looks like you're used to a bit of punishment, eh? I'm not surprised."

His breath whistling through clenched teeth, Zim willed his body to respond to him. The shock was wearing off, just a little longer and he would be able to move. The magician grabbed him by the collar of his bloody, shredded sweater, dragging him up. "Is that it? What a disappointment." A red knife appeared in his free hand. "Here I thought you might put up a bit more of a fight. What a weakling." The dagger drove toward Zim.

One hand deflected the Irken's strike at the wrist, and the other clipped upside his jaw as Zim brought his knee up between the magician's legs—a move he recalled Dib pulling on him more than once in Grade Skool with painful accuracy.

The Irken grunted, but brought his head back down to stare levelly at him. "You realize kicking an Irken in the crotch doesn't have nearly the same effect as it does on a human?" He tossed Zim off the platform and onto the roof of the opposing house. "One credit I give to Irkens, those parts don't show until we need them." His platform hovered closer. "But I admire you for trying an underhanded trick."

Landing with his spiderlegs splayed out in battle stance, Zim extended his entire arsenal of lasers, firing them all at the Irken. The second he fired, he dove over the edge of the building, aiming for the garbage below. He hoped he had created enough cover for himself to gain a few seconds.

A red ball encased the magician, shielding him from the lasers easily. As the blasts faded, he dropped the ball around himself, turning to encase Zim in it. "Hmm… I say we see what a game of Irken Pinball looks like." The ball began slamming into the sides of the buildings, the ground, and the dumpster like a pinball. Zim hit the sides of the ball, gasping as the wind left his body. He barely had the presence of mind to extend his spiderlegs and robotic arms in all directions, bracing himself in the dead center of the ball.

Sighing, the magician pulled the ball up toward himself, staring boredly into it. "You're no fun with your strategy. Doesn't matter though, I've caught you, and you aren't escaping."

Teeth bared, Zim hissed, "You want fun, lose the powers and come at me hand to hand. Something tells me you're not half the fighter you think you are without your powers, Magician. All smoke and mirrors."

"Trying to play to my pride, are you? Why should I humor a Mekrelmar who I can kill in an instant?"

Lashing out against the sphere encasing him, Zim snarled, "The only reason you don't have the same brand on your forehead is the empire hasn't caught you yet, scum. Any Irken who plans the death of a Tallest is among the worst of the traitors. I should know."

"Oh yes," The Irken mocked, "because the Tallests are SO GREAT, right? Leading their entire race around like puppets on a string while they eat junk food and watch. The only basis on which they order anyone around is that they're tall. That's the system your BRILLIANT race went with as a leader. Doesn't matter if you're smart, doesn't matter if you're talented, if you're a few inches higher, you're set for life. Don't have the genes? I'm sorry, the home of the Slaughtering Rat People is right over there! So if killing a Tallest makes me a traitor, I really, REALLY don't care."

"It doesn't have to be that way!" Zim flailed in frustration. "Killing a Tallest might make you a traitor, but what would make you a worse Mekrelmar than me is killing off the one chance the Tallest has of changing everything you just cited. The woman with him can keep him on course to setting things right, I've already seen it! Irk can have a chance. Look! This planet should have been incinerated by now, the Armada is circling all around it, but it hasn't been. Why is that? Not because of the Tallest alone!"

"Like I care about this planet, or the Irken race. I don't care about anyone, and why should I? What has anyone ever done for me? Hmm? Let me answer that for you, nothing. I honestly don't care if both worlds burn, I don't care if I'm Mekrelmar of the universe. NO ONE can stop me, not you, not that moronic Tallest, NO ONE."

Flattening his antennae, Zim growled, "There's always a way. Everyone has a weakness."

Shrugging the magician responded, "Well, you can look for mine as I rip your guts out. And eat them." At Zim's prolonged pause, the Irken lifted an antenna casually. "Oh. You don't know, of course. See, in order for me to keep these powers, I need to consume an Irken each month. Suffice it to say, I have no trouble capturing them at will. Sometimes I have them dead, but I have to say it is much more fulfilling when they are alive. That way I can hear their screams. You are definitely going to be the latter."

There. He'd tried as hard as he could to deny what this monster had been telling him from the beginning, but there it was spelled out in black and white. His fists clenched as he felt a horrible twisting crawl up his spine, through his chest, spiderwebbing through his mind, as darkness began seeping through the cracks in his mind. His head listed to the side, and a slow, crooked smile crossed his face. He could feel familiar strains of madness licking at the edges of his brain, but there was nothing he could do. Nobody familiar nearby to anchor him down. Just him, and the monster waiting to devour him. He twitched, eyes glinting darkly. "I….. am….. Zim…"

The magician raised an eyeridge. "Did I strike a chord?"

The smile opened into a twisted grin. "I….. I am….. Zim…." He chuckled horribly, crouching in the red ball. "Zim…." He scraped a claw along the inside of his prison, eyelid twitching. "You want to play….. come and play…"

Snorting, the Irken scratched his head. "Sheesh. I've met some cracked Irkens in my time, usually because of me, but you may actually take the cake." The only response he received was that same frozen grin, and the claw dragged along the inside of the ball in one, long, continuous screech. "That's annoying." He reached a hand through the ball, grabbing Zim by the throat. "Looks like I'm going to have to stop that stupid grin myse—"

Zim's mouth opened in a horrified shriek as a pitch black shadow rose up in his mind, flowing toward the Magician's mental intrusion.

_Come to me, tender little morsel._

_Feeeeeble little Irken._

_Your fear is intoxicating._

_Don't struggle, it only makes it worssssse…_

Lashing out, Zim shouted, "I AM ZIM!"

…

Riddick fell backward, blasted back to the opposing roof. He lay there, stunned as Zim's ball dropped, unceremoniously to the first building's roof. Riddick clutched his head. "Guuuh… what the flirk?" No Irken should have had that strong a mental capacity, let alone an Irken that cracked, to send a mental blast at him.

He glanced up to see Zim scrambling across the roof and vaulting to the next one, nearly on all fours. Riddick had seen it on occasion in his prey. Some, in terror, would revert to an animalistic mental state, where survival was the only concept they understood. They provided a great deal of amusement before their deaths. He rose to his feet as Zim reached the third roof away… and cursed.

A great dark shadow billowed up at the edge of the third roof. Zim shrieked in mortal terror, drifting as he attempted to change his momentum, but the darkness enveloped him. Riddick lifted his hand, hurling little red balls at the shadow, but they had farther to travel than before. By the time they reached the third roof, the shadow had vanished, leaving no trace of Zim.

He had no doubt it was the same flarling he'd face earlier.

His head turned toward the heart of the city, his eyes narrow as he picked up the burst of teleportation energy. "She can't do that forever." Hopping back on his red platform, he took off in that direction, peering ahead for signs of the morflar. He had no doubt she was gleaning all the details of his confrontation from that weakling. As he approached a city park, he noted a speck of black by a tree, which vanished the moment he came into view. Again, he felt the teleportation energy, this time from far behind him. Turning about-face, he followed the trail.

"This will never work," he said softly, "Especially if that fool is having a mental breakdown, and you're still reeling from our little scuffle. Only delaying the inevitable."

He spotted her on the outskirts of town. The city dump, to be exact, leaning heavily on a pile of garbage, one eye turned balefully at the sky. She wasn't retreating this time, and he lowered the platform, stepping off to face her. "Are you done? I would have thought you'd learned your lesson by now.

The shadow hissed at him, her attempt to be threatening coming off as more pathetic than anything else. "He's MY prey. I've had him marked for months now, and I NEED the recharge after your little stunt."

"Oh please." Riddick dusted off the shoulders of his cloak. "Do you think I am that stupid? I know you pledged yourself to protect the woman and her family, and you are protecting him as well. You have no intention of eating him, no matter how wonderful his mental anguish must smell to you."

She closed her eyes, bracing herself, and Riddick could tell he'd hit the mark. Her self-control was remarkable, given the circumstances. Still, she opened her eyes again, grating out, "I protect her and her family. He's not her family. I don't need him to protect her, except as fuel for me."

"Oh, something tells me he's a valued asset. Maybe not to you, but to them." He leaned against a discarded bin. "That same something tells me that if you were to eat him, you would never be forgiven. You've let your emotions in, so you can't go through with it. And now, because of your doubts and fears, you're backed into a corner. So, I ask again, are you done?"

She wavered, gauging him a moment, before growling, "It's not worth it. Here, have him." She vanished again, but this time, she left behind something. It was Irken, or at least, it had been once. It was a mass of raw, green flesh, quivering, and screaming incoherently in agony.

"Clever," Riddick acknowledged, walking forward. "Not Zim, as you would like me to believe, but you know I'm hungry, and you know I need the energy." He crouched over the miserable wretch. "Freshly screaming Irken too, you tease." He loosened his cloak. "It's alright, you won't get far." He pounced on the Irken, and the screams in the garbage dump died away into silence.


	19. Crevice Confessions

Armor. It was the first thing that had to go. Red was already much larger than Gloria, and heavier, without the extra armor. She'd never be able to move him with it on. She knelt down on the ground, bending over and digging her right shoulder under Red's torso to turn him over. She'd never seen anything on the front of his armor that indicated a lock mechanism. It had to be behind. Once he was on his side, she ran her hand over the metal, feeling for anything.

His PAK sprang open, robotic wires shooting out and wrapping tightly around her arm. Panicked, she yanked back, but they held her there, as a robotic voice intoned **Unauthorized access will be terminated. Determining access level.**

She watched the tip of the wire sink into her skin, sure she was about to die.

 **Access authorized, co-Tallest level.** The wire unwound and retreated back into the PAK.

"Wait!" She blurted, "I need to unlock the armor, how?"

A hiss leaked from the armor, as it split apart at the back. The shoulderpads fell off, the wristguards split open, the torso armor opened, and the waist-rings clanked off.

Her bag lay nearby. She fumbled inside with one arm and grabbed the blanket she'd packed, unfurling it as much as she could. Grabbing Red's shoulder, she rolled him back out of his armor and onto the blanket, trying not to gag at the sight of his broken form. Her left arm throbbed, and she could see it beginning to swell, but there wasn't time for it. With her right hand, she pulled together two ends of the blanket just above Red's head and stood, draping the ends over her left shoulder. Leaning forward, she began to haul the makeshift sled across the sands. He was still heavy, but moveable now, and the sand made for easier sliding.

She struggled forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The more distance she could put between them and the plume of smoke in the distance, and even their own crash site where she'd left the armor, the better. She'd pull on into the night if she had to.

A wet drop splashed on the back of her neck, and she groaned. She lifted her head to the sky in disbelief. Where there had been sun pouring down a moment ago, suddenly there was a heavy layer of rainclouds. _Rainclouds!_ Where had they come from?*

She didn't have enough time to think about it. The rains would burn Red's skin right off him. Lifting her head, she scanned the cliffside for any kind of shelter, where they could hide until Red had recovered and the rain passed. She could see an opening in the cliff wall a ways off, a crevice of sorts. She doubled her efforts, plowing ahead as more drops fell.

By the time she reached the crevice, the rain was falling fast, and a persistent, burnt smell followed her. The crevice was wide enough to enter, and seemed to go back a ways. She dragged Red inside, panting. She didn't dare go too far back, there was no light, but she pulled him in out of the rain. Turning around, she braced her back against the wall and one foot against his head, sliding the soaking blanket out from under him. It was doing more harm than good at this point, and she tossed it toward the opening.

His PAK was still flashing desperately, but it wasn't enough to see his face, or find out if he was conscious. She crouched, reaching a hand to his face and feeling across it… then yanked her hand back, shuddering.

_All is darkness. I will never see their faces. But I will memorize their faces by feel, every face, every shape of each face I will memorize by touch, in case I ever find them again._

She did not want to memorize the shape of his face. Why would she, the image of his face was burned into her mind, and the shape of his body imprinted in her memory. Some days all she wanted to do was scrub her skin until he was out of her completely. Why would she want to feel his face? Why should she give that to him, that which she had only given to her lost children?

This marriage was a sham they had both entered into to save Earth. She didn't owe him anything beyond helping make sure he lived, which she had already done to the best of her ability. Her own left arm hung, completely immobile, swollen frightfully. She needed to find a way to tend to herself.

Something prodded her left arm in the dark, and she pulled back, gasping at the pain.

"You're…. hurt…" Red's voice echoed in the crevice.

"I thought you were unconscious." She sat back against the wall. "I don't suppose you have anything that can heal a broken arm with you."

"Would… make… you Irken…"

She shuddered. "That's fine. I'll wait."

"Have... pain-numbing."

"As long as it doesn't turn me—AH!" something jabbed into the underside of her wrist, and numbness spread up her arm. She heard shifting, and could just barely see him as he sat up. He dragged himself a little closer.

"Let…me?" He pointed to her arm. At her nod, he took it in his hands. He extended a small light from his PAK and began carefully manipulating the bones in her forearm. She could feel the shifting bones, and her stomach twisted. She turned her face away, fighting down the queasiness. She heard a loud snap, though not from her arm, and the sound of cloth ripping. When she turned back, a length of metal—one that looked suspiciously like the last segment of a PAK spiderleg—had been laid against her forearm and bound there with red cloth. Red was taking a longer strip of red cloth now, and sliding it under her forearm, then reaching back to tie it behind her neck. She stared at him.

"How did you learn how to set a bone? Or what to do for a human's broken bone?"

"Your… network of information… internet… primitive… but vast…" he rasped. "Can access from…. Anywhere…"

"What about your injuries?"

"Healing." He responded tiredly.

She shivered, glancing at the opening where rain still poured down. "Can't go out in that. Do you think we'll be followed here?"

"Don't know." Words seemed to take more effort from him than usual.

She laid her head back against the wall again. "Then all we can do is rest for now."

He turned off his light, and she felt him shift closer again. Her body tensed up, but he said only, "Heat." Before turning his back to her. His PAK glowed gently, and a small force field sprang up, surrounding them both.

Though she was not thrilled with the closeness, she had to admit it was a smart way to conserve their body heat without actually touching. Again, it came to her how great an effort he continued to make not to touch her without consent. And again, his question rang in her mind.

Her mouth turned down. "I don't know."

His head lifted slightly, half-turned toward his shoulder so she could see the dim reflection off his eye.

"I don't know what you can do. You are…" She struggled to put the concept into the right words. "You are not Tallest Red. You're Scar. Ever since you came back into my life you've been Scar. But all I see is Tallest Red." She closed her eyes. "You have the same face. The same body. The same species—I can barely look at Zim because he looks just like you." She felt her throat tighten. "And there's nothing I can do about that because I hate Tallest Red! I hate him with everything in me, I wish he were dead, I wish he had never been born or hatched or whatever you call it because he ruined my life!" Her voice rose with each sentence. "He stole every good moment I should have had with my family, and he turned it into an endless nightmare, and then the only good I could have held onto, he took them and killed them!" Tears stung her eyes. "He killed my children." Gloria's head sank forward. "I hate Tallest Red. But I know he's gone. What I don't know is how to see Scar."

He turned his head forward again, silent. She wished she could see his face, and know what he was thinking.

"Help me." He replied quietly, his voice gathering some small strength. "Help me rule. Don't hide away. Be there for decisions… for councils, for plans. Then… maybe… start to see." He paused, his head lowering as he murmured, "And help me stay Scar."

_Don't hide away._

Shame curled in her stomach as she realized that's all she'd done since the wedding day. Hide from Red, and as many Irkens as she could. She'd stepped into the role of leader in name only, not fully understanding, but also choosing not to learn how. She'd left the burden of sorting the treaties between Earth and Irk squarely on his shoulders.

"You're used to having someone else to talk to about things, aren't you?" She asked quietly. He grunted an affirmation. "What happened to Tallest Purple?"

"I was informed that he was found in his quarters with a blaster in his hand, and a hole through his head."

She hadn't known Purple much. She'd seen him once before Red had blinded her, and she'd heard his voice a few times. The guards would speak about the Tallests as they passed by her cell on their rounds, sometimes mentioning Tallest Purple specifically, but she knew very little about him. Apparently, though, he'd meant a great deal to Red, even in his twisted state of mind. "I'm sorry." She lifted a hand to touch his shoulder, but withdrew it before contact.

"I know you're not a leader." His words and breathing seemed to be coming easier. "That you don't know about wars and treaties, and you don't want to know anything about Irkens. But that is where you are. And yes, I need someone to talk to about it. Someone who can me figure out the best course of action, or at least the right direction so I can come up with the best course of action. I'm still sorting out my own head, it's hard enough doing that and leading Irk." He lifted his head again, looking at her over his shoulder again. "There isn't a moment that goes by that I don't know exactly how disgusted you are by me. You have every right. But it doesn't change the fact that I need help. I don't know what might, at any moment, cause a relapse or trigger a reaction. Judging from conversations with Zim, it could be anything. You… you are a constant reminder of why I need to hold myself together and change things." His voice shook. "What happened to you—what was done to you—is a result of a deep crack running through the whole of the Irken race. And I don't know where it started, or how it came to be, but it has to be sealed up, and that starts with me. So please… please… help me."

Gloria's good hand reached up, almost of its own accord, and rested on his shoulder. His breath caught, frozen. She stared at the faint red reflection marking where his eye was still looking back at her. "I'll try." She pulled her hand back, and leaned against the wall again. "Get some rest, we'll need it if we're going to get from here to Zim's base on foot."


	20. A Dark Promise

The darkness was an unexpected blessing, Red decided. He could feel every water burn, and it was bad enough she'd probably already seen the worst of his injuries, she didn't need to see more. It also gave him a measure of privacy as he hunched over a small display from his PAK. He kept one antenna lifted in Gloria's direction as he called up the security footage he'd downloaded into his PAK. Her breathing was slow and steady, most likely asleep.

The screen flickered, drawing his attention back down to it. He adjusted the volume to play on low, and watched the image play out.

Purple's room didn't look right. There were datapads all over the floors, some on the bed, and the walls looked like they'd been drawn on. Red frowned. Purple usually kept his research to the labs, and never drew on the walls. He was much tidier than this too, almost meticulous in how he kept his living quarters. Red zoomed in on some of the drawings. Among the scribbled calculations and year markers were crude sketches of winged beasts, blobs marked only by an outline, what looked like a Vortian, the symbol of the Meekrob, and dozens of other species symbols and depictions lining the wall.

He heard the hiss of Purple's door opening, and he zoomed back out. The Tallest staggered into the room, locking the door behind him, eyes wide and round. He stumbled over to the wall, planting both hands against it and breathing heavily. His antennae trembled as he pressed his forehead against the wall. Suddenly he shoved himself back and extended his spiderlegs, turning them to slash at the wall. Over and over they carved through and around the drawings, tearing into the surface and leaving deep gouges.

He spun around, eyes wide and darting, his chest heaving. He pressed one hand to his antenna, whimpering and swatting the air with the other hand, as if trying to fend off something only he could see—or hear. He continued swatting at the air long after he'd closed his eyes and sunk to the ground on his knees, his body jerking.

"N-no!" He moaned, flailing his arm at the air. "No… I…" His head jerked up, a look of horror on his face as his door began clicking—an override? In half a second, a blaster flew from his PAK to his hands, pointing at the door, arms trembling as he aimed and the door slid aside. Red couldn't make out what was beyond the door, but whatever it was didn't enter.

"You can't do this!" Purple shouted. "I am the Tallest! Get away!"

Robotic wires began slithering in through the doorway, aiming at Purple. His arms shook badly, and his breathing came in little jerks and whimpers. As the first wire brushed his foot, he spun the blaster around to face himself. "I WON'T!" He screamed, clamping his hand around the trigger. The blaster seared away half of his head, and his body dropped silently to the ground. The robotic wires paused, then rescinded back through the doorway, and the door hissed shut. Nothing moved for about five minutes, and then the door was blasted open, and drones poured in, shouting in confusion and panic over their fallen Tallest.

The screen slipped from Red's claws, suddenly nerveless. Purple _had_ killed himself. Under some kind of threat, but he was the last one to even consider… Red grabbed at the screen, yanking it back up and zooming in on the wall behind Purple. The cuts in the wall, though frantic, were still precise. Some of the figures and symbols-Vortian, Meekrob, the blank blob—were circled, while others, like the winged beast, had a jagged X carved through them.

Circles.

X marks.

Yellow eyes.

He jerked, stifling a cry of alarm. Those eyes had not been there a moment before.

 _Greetings My Tallest Red._ The voice wound through his mind, mockingly humble in its tone. _Did you enjoy the show?_

Red's claws pierced the screen, a surge of rage battling the fear over the intrusion into his thoughts. "Are you a morflar?" He asked, keeping his voice even.

 _Oh, what I am is not important._ The eyes crinkled upward, as if smiling. _The question is what you are going to do next. You see, your former co-ruler really didn't think things through. He decided to run headlong into something he didn't understand, and he paid the price for it._ The eyes narrowed, and the voice dropped to darker tones. _And you are dangerously close to following the same path._

"What did you do to him?" Red hissed.

 _Me?_ The eyes laughed at him. _I didn't do anything, he did it himself. He just didn't like the path presented to him. Such a waste._

"Who are you?" The tips of his claws bled from the glass screen.

_You may call me the voice of Irk, I suppose. It's fitting, really. And as the voice of Irk, I must inform you that changing the course of this race is neither possible nor wise._

"That is not your decision to make. Irk has caused enough damage. Changing the course will be slow, but it _will_ start with me!"

_You say that now. But madness is always nipping at your heels, and it takes so very little to break an Irken, I have found._

Red felt his spine stiffen, his PAK poking into Gloria.

 _You have a choice, Tallest Red. I will grant you your sanity for the length of your rule. I will grant you the life of that bastard creature that blindly follows you around begging for scraps of attention. I will even grant you the life of the human behind you—but she must be locked away in the depths of the Massive, never to be seen again. And you must rule as you did before. This is the best and only offer you will get from me._ The eyes glowed. _Cross me, Red, and you will lose everything._

Red. The use of the familiar term, in contempt and full assurance of safety. He had heard it before, out of a human mouth. Darkbooty, his eyes gleaming yellow, knowing far more information than he ever should have known. The voice of Irk?

 _Now you are beginning to understand my reach, it seems._ The eyes stared at him, mildly. _Do we have a deal?_

Abruptly, Red smashed the viewscreen down over a rock, shattering it into pieces. The yellow eyes vanished, and he drew in a deep breath.

"Who was that?" Gloria's voice startled him.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked hoarsely.

"Only a few sentences, you woke me." She turned toward him, quietly asking, "Does it have the power to do what it is threatening to do?"

Expelling a long breath, Red admitted, "I don't know. It's possible… whatever it did, it was responsible for Purple's suicide."

Gloria sat back, staring at the opposite wall. "Then when do we return?"

He blinked at her. "Return?"

"To the Massive. The… cells." He gaped at her in disbelief. She shifted, looking away. "Don't look at me like that. If it does have the power to do all that, then… you have a duty to… the Irkens." She pressed her mouth in a thin line, her face stony.

Abruptly, Red reached over and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. "What do you think this is?" He shouted in frustration. "Do you even try to understand? Do you?" She stiffened, but he kept his grip. "You think that what happens to you and what happens to the Irken race is two separate things? It isn't! Don't you understand that whatever this thing is, the fact that it is threatening you means it is threatening all of Irk? It's threatening the potential for positive change? You think I'm just going to cram all of that away in a dark cell never to be seen again? _Do you?_ "

She was shaking in his grip, her one good arm in front of her, clawed, like a shield. Realizing what he'd just done, he released her, turning away with a deep mortification. He swallowed it down, and looked to the crevice opening.

The rain had let up, a few small drops still pattering the sands here and there. He stood. "We should go." He walked toward the opening. "If it found me, it knows where we are. We need to be on the move." He strode out onto the sands, heedless of the few drops that needled his skin. If nothing else, it distracted him from the sense of impending doom now hanging over his head.


	21. Reassembly Required

" _Zim. You have to stop screaming."_

_"Zim!"_

_"ZIM YOU IDIOT!"_

Gaz hung, suspended in the void between spaces where she traveled from point to point, seemingly instantaneously. She lingered there, unsure if her ploy with the half-eaten Irken would even work. Would they be followed again if she reappeared in the city?

She didn't have much choice. She could feel the fracture in Zim's mind splintering further by the second. It was all she could do to try and push the image of his sisters into his mind, and even that was like plugging a crumbling dam with her hand. And it didn't help that he was, by far, the most delicious thing she'd ever smelled in her life at this moment.

Now on an empty stomach.

" _You're no help at all!"_

Brushing Zim's mind, she attempted to call an image from his thoughts. She prodded his mind for his workplace at Membrane Inc. As it flashed by, she caught it, pulling it into her own mind, and porting them there in an instant.

His workspace wasn't very large, a regular-sized laboratory. The main table stood covered in schematics of the ship he continued to have built. A complex piece of machinery sat in the corner, sprouting wires and levers she couldn't hope to understand. Various beakers and test tubes lay scattered about, abandoned for days now.

Carefully, she relinquished Zim out onto the ground. The second he emerged, his screams echoed off the walls. She smothered his mouth with a flare, they couldn't be found like this. It would raise questions, and draw bystanding scientists into the line of fire when the other Irken caught up with them—and he would.

Zim's screams continued, barely muffled by Gaz, his eyes rolling around and his limbs thrashing in a desperate bid for escape from a danger that was no longer there.

" _Zim!"_ She shouted into his mind. " _Zim he's gone, but we have to figure something out! I can't stop him, you can't stop him, maybe together we can come up with something but YOU HAVE TO CALM DOWN!"_

Not one flicker in his thoughts gave her any indication that he'd even heard her.

She fought down a sob of frustration.

" _What am I supposed to do?"_ She shook him. " _I can't fix you, I don't fix Irkens! Dib isn't Dib, he doesn't smell like Dib, he doesn't feel like Dib, I can't trust him now. Mom's gone, I don't even know where. Stupid Red would have something to say or do but I don't even know where_ he _is! He could be nearby for all I know and I can't smell him because my head still hurts… after he gets you he'll kill Mom-ZIM PLEASE YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE I'VE GOT WHO CAN PLAN!"_

Nothing.

Desperate, she reached into his mind, searching for anything, even a fragment that might help her piece him back together.

A spark, a momentary flash of light in the depths of his mind. She seized on it, exploring it carefully.

" _I don't have time to get her!"_ She glanced down at herself. She hadn't tried to shift into a shape since that morning, and her encounter. Had she healed enough? Would she be able to hold a form without scaring him further with some kind of rubbery, nightmarish image?

But maybe he didn't need to _see_ a perfect replica. And it was her only chance.

…..

It was dark. And the dark was moving. And the dark was tearing at him, pulling him to pieces, ripping into him with abandon and laughing.

There was nothing he could do. He could feel everything slipping away. He was slipping away, down, down into the darkness that always waited for him. Patiently. Ravenously.

Through the darkness, he felt something brushing against his face. His mouth was open. Was he screaming? He couldn't tell.

Something brushed his face. His body was being gathered toward something—but not something terrifying. Something warm and soft. It felt familiar somehow. He couldn't place it exactly, but it was a good feeling.

Had the darkness receded some?

A voice slipped in through the pieces, sliding along them like an adhesive and drawing them back together. It wasn't a completely pleasant voice, in fact it was the voice of one more used to shouting and stern reprimands than singing. But it was the love in the voice that it chose to attempt to sing anyway, even though it knew it wasn't very good. It was this voice that he clung to, his mouth slowly closing, and his arms—he could feel his arms, he could control them—wrapping around the warmth and clinging desperately to it.

_Maneem._

…

Gaz continued the song, even as Zim turned, wrapping himself around her in the most pathetic display of clinginess she'd ever seen in him.

_Is it really any different than Mom? She needed you this much too, and you never thought she was pathetic._

Sighing, Gaz resigned herself to the role. She could only hold a poor visual imitation of Della, and only her upper body at that. The rest of her was still shadow pooled on the ground, but it was enough to hold Zim. The feeling of warmth and the tone of her voice, and even the lullaby itself she plucked from his memory, bringing the memory strongly to the surface of his consciousness to reinforce her attempts at mimicry. But it was working. She'd been able to remove her flare from his mouth as he stopped screaming, and she could sense his thoughts begin to flow again, still halting and staggering, but there.

She held him like that until his fears had dropped to a manageable level, before she prodded him gently.

"Zim—"

"Please Gaz…" She almost dropped him. He knew it was her, and he still clung as tightly as if she really were Della. "…Just… a little longer… I'm sorry…"

Shame blurred her vision. He'd recovered enough to realize Della wasn't really there, but he needed a few more moments of pretense to pull through. He knowingly held to a dangerous predator because he trusted implicitly that she would hold to her word. And because of that trust, he could let himself be as vulnerable as he had to in order to recover.

_I will never be that brave._

Finally, Zim unwound his arms, carefully pulling back and opening his eyes. He averted his gaze quickly, shivering. "You're s-still injured, a-aren't you?"

She dropped the shape of Della, sighing. _"Yes. It wasn't a good shift, was it?"_

"L-like a mannequin."

_"At least it's something. Are you back?"_

"S-s-seventy percent Zim." He gave a half-hearted grin, which vanished quickly. "Wh-at happened?"

She averted her eyes.

"G-gaz you h-have to tell me so I can f-figure out what to d-do and how much t-time we have."

_"Let's just say I gave him leftovers to slow him down."_

Zim flinched violently, and gripped a nearby table leg. He drew in a few deep breaths, and nodded. "Th-that was s-smart." He paused. "Th…..thank…you."

She eyed him. _"I don't know how long we have. He can follow me. I don't know how, he turned around the second I ported somewhere else."_

"M-maybe energy t-tracking. Who knows wh-what he can do." He pulled himself up shakily. "L-listen. I…" He put a hand to his head, grimacing. "Too much…" He shook his head. "Too much to do…"

_"What do you mean?"_

"I mean you have to l-listen carefully. I n-need people here. You need to g-get them, but you can't be h-here." He put up a hand. "He'll kn-know you're here. And I n-need you to do something else."

He reached into his PAK, pulling out a datapad, and plugged in a wire from his PAK. He began downloading code as he continued speaking to Gaz. "You'll take th-this and put it in GIR's head. He l-looks like a boy but he's s-still a robot underneath. He's at m-m-my base. Then y-you need to g-get to my family."

_"What? But what about Mom? What about Dib, he's not himself, Zim, he smells wrong and there's something that feels dark about him now! Why are we getting your family involved?"_

Zim paused, his face twisting in pain for a moment, before he turned away. His shoulders were stiff as he responded, "L-leave your f-family to me, G-gaz. But I need you t-to make sure mine is safe. Please."

_"Safe from what, Zim?"_

Zim unplugged the datapad. "You s-saw what happened, Gaz. This m-magician was able to break me with a f-few words. If h-he does it ag-gain, even if I win… I don't th-think you can bring me back f-from that. And wh-whatever is happening Gaz, it's m-much bigger than we thought. So p-please keep them safe if th-things don't go as p-planned."

Gaz spread her flares unhappily. _"I'll try. What else do you need?"_

He turned to the beakers, grabbing two or three, and staring at them, as if trying to remember what they were. Gaz gently turned them in his hand so that the labels were facing him. He nodded, mixing differing amounts of each into a larger vial. "G-get Agent T-tunaghost to c-come here." He fumbled in a drawer, grabbing a syringe and filling it with the substance. "She'll w-walk in on a fight, b-but if she can tranquilize him, we h-have a chance. She h-has one shot. If you c-can get her a dart-gun or s-something similar that w-would be great, because it h-has to count." He handed the syringe to Gaz. "Th-think you can do all that?"

She nodded, taking the syringe. He grabbed one of her flares, staring up at her. "If I'm n-not me, if I lose it, don't l-let me near them."

Projecting more confidence than she felt, she replied, _"You're not going to lose it. You're going to win this."_ She saluted dryly. _"After all, you're Zim."_ With that, she vanished.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody's wondering… Wanderer's Lullaby by Adriana Figueroa… but the voice is not intended to be as good as hers. I'm describing Della singing it, not Adriana. Adriana is much better than Della…


	22. Handicap Match

"You! T-t-tall sciency person!" Zim grabbed the first flapping labcoat that passed him in the hall. "Where is the danger room?"

"Pardon me?" The lady asked, bewildered.

"The danger room! Every p-place that has this kind of inventionry and s-scientific progress has to have a danger room where the experiments too dangerous to be released to the public are-are kept. Where was Professor Membrane's danger room?"

"You can't get in," she spluttered, "He kept that room under AI lock, nobody's been able to get past it."

"Take me to the r-room." Zim commanded. "I will get past it."

"I'll have to evacuate the building if you even try opening that door, is it really so urgent?"

"It is so urgent that I do not have time to explain to you the urgency of the situation. Now M-MOVE drone!"

She scrambled onward, only taking a moment to turn and pull a red lever on the wall as she passed. The light in the hallways turned red, flashing as the Professor's voice intoned, "This is a mandatory evacuation procedure. Please proceed to the nearest exit. The doors are on the ground floor. The windows are in the walls. Please do not use windows higher than the second floor to evacuate from."

After a few turns, she stopped in front of a thick steel door with a large wheel on the front. Lasers randomly shot between the sides of the door frame, blocking further access.

"This is where I evacuate." She turned, making for a nearby exit. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Zim muttered, turning to the door. "Am I s-speaking to the artificial intelligence that protects this room?"

"That would be me." Just in front of the door, a hologram materialized. A man of average height with a long white labcoat, the collar turned up around his face, and reflective goggles. His long black hair zig-zagged in a lightening-like scythe, and Zim sighed.

"Hello Professor."

"Little green child, greetings, and what are you doing here in front of my room of DANGERIOUSLY DEVIOUS DEVICES?" The Professor's voice boomed, echoing theatrically down the hall.

"I need something from here, some kind of weapon or defense." Zim glanced back down the hall. "I'm up ag-gainst someone much stronger than m-myself with a special ability."

"I'm sorry little green child but this room is off-limits to the world." The AI laughed jovially. "If I let just anyone in here for any reason, the whole world could explode in a matter of seconds. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can sort it out yourse—"

"It's threatening your wife." Zim said tersely. The AI fell silent. "It's after me because I know where she's going, and I'm trying to keep her safe. Your son is already in serious danger, and your daughter is badly wounded. Do I need to continue?"

The lasers sputtered out, and the wheel on the door spun frantically. The door split apart down the middle, allowing access. The hologram hadn't moved.

Zim started forward but the hologram raised a hand, halting him. "You are here. All this is happening to my family and you are here, and not myself."

Zim glanced away.

"Zim." Zim's head came back around to the hologram. "Take care of my family for me."

"They're my family too." Zim said quietly. The hologram dissipated, and he rushed inside. There had to be something inside that could help him win. Or at the very least, survive.

….

He sat at his worktable, mindlessly tinkering with the engine in front of him. His hands moved, but his mind and all senses were attuned to the room behind him, his body a coiled spring. If the Irken could track energy, as he guessed, he would find Zim soon enough through his PAK signature.

Sure enough, it wasn't too long before a voice sounded behind him. "My name is Riddick, by the way. Forgive me for the informal introduction but I was a bit distracted as you did run right past me the first time, then lost your mind, then the morflar left me a meal."

Zim flinched, but continued tinkering with the engine. My n-name is Zim. But I supposed you a-already got that." He kept his eyes focused on the engine, one antenna tilted in Riddick's direction.

"Yes, that certainly is your name. You said it over and over. But I'm curious, Zim. What could make an Irken lose their mind that badly, but still allow them a semblance of sanity until it is triggered?"

"One could just as easily ask what could make an Irken crave power so badly they would turn on their own kind as a food source in trade." Zim replied, evenly.

"That did seem to be a nasty trigger for you, didn't it? How much of that do you remember anyway? As soon as I mentioned it you really spiraled into a deranged lunatic. I've seen 'insane with fear' but that… that was a category all on its own. And yet here you are somehow. Someone as broken as you shouldn't be able to cut a carrot without slicing your own hand off." He gestured at the engine Zim was tinkering with. "So how are you still functional?"

Zim wrenched a part too hard, keeping his eyes down. "It is not something someone like you are capable of comprehending. I know your kind. You enjoy hearing the screams and the begging and the pleading."

"Oh don't act high and mighty like you know me. You don't know me at all. Someone as broken as you could never understand. You don't even deserve to know, a little Mekrelmar like you. A spinning wheel on a machine much larger than you. What makes you think you make any difference at all? What makes you think you can stop me from killing you? In what reality do you think you have a chance to do anything other than fail?"

Spinning around in his seat, Zim spread his arms wide, facing Riddick. "You think you can kill me then, fine. Do it. Put a scar on me from where you stand with your stupid magic, or whatever it is you're cursed with." His arms aren't steady, but his voice is challenging. "Make me scream, why don't you?"

He could see Riddick eying his ragged sweater, several sections hanging only by threads at this point to reveal the scarring beneath. "Looks like I'm not the first to try, eh?" Riddick raised an antenna.

Zim's lip curled in a half sneer. "I told you. I know your kind."

"Well you've never faced anyone like me." Riddick lifted a hand, forming a red spike to drive at him. The second it formed, it dissipated completely. He stared at his hand, blinking. "What?"

Zim stood slowly. "And you, Riddick, have never faced anyone like Zim." He uncoiled, charging Riddick head-first like a battering ram. "Black hole technology beats energy based weaponry!"

Riddick holds out a hand, stopping Zim in his tracks. "You know I'm not some weakling, right? If you've found some way to combat my powers I can still throw you around if I must."

Zim grabbed his hand, flipping forward and lashing out with his booted feet toward Riddick's head.

"I don't have to use my force as a weapon, I can use it to maximize my strength." He raised an arm, blocking Zim's strike. His marks glowed slightly, but he appeared unfazed. Zim's spiderlegs unfolded as he slashed downard, the tips glowing with just enough suppressed laser-fire to turn them into deadly cutters. Riddick front-flipped out of the way and leaped back, driving his forearm into Zim's stomach. "How long will you fight before you realize it's over?"

Zim grunted, grabbing Riddick's cloak and wrapping it over his head. "As long as it takes for you to understand you'll never lay a claw on the woman with the purple hair."

Riddick kicked him away, untangling himself from his cloak. "She's one woman, why do you care if she lives or dies?"

Refusing to answer, Zim dived back at Riddick, feinting a full charge before dropping down to sweep his legs around at Riddick's feet. Riddick leaped, stomping down on Zim with his bare feet and digging his toe claws into his skin. "Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?"

Gritting his teeth, Zim twisted around, clawing at Riddick's legs, his spiderlegs stabbing upward. Riddick backflipped out of the way. "Oh come now, you couldn't stop talking before, and suddenly it's the silent treatment?"

Pulling himself up, Zim gripped the edge of a table to steady himself. "Zim is not interested in discussing particulars with you. Only ensuring the certainty that you will fail."

"You can barely keep yourself steady for five minutes and you want to ensure my failure? How about you face facts and go to your happy place? It'll be over before you know it."

Zim's eyes flicked to the side, skimming over a form that slipped into the room. It crouched by a desk, taking aim at Riddick. "Or you could go to yours." A small _thwip_ sounded.

In one motion, Riddick spun, catching the tranquilizer dart midair, and hurling it back at the form. "Nice try." Tunaghost slumped back, eyes wide as it hit her shoulder.

Zim froze. Tunaghost was his backup plan, this wasn't supposed to happen. Her head lolled to the side as she blinked at Riddick. "Who…. Are you?"

"Well you were also too rude to ask me. Zim's slave, I presume? That was awfully played by the way, you obviously mean something to him. Drugged up on tranquilizers, serves you right for your foolish attempts."

"Not slave… dummy… dum…" Tunaghost snickered. "You're really serious."

Blinking, Riddick responded, "Well I take things very seriously."

"Party pooper. You're… you're a poopy pants party pooper."

Behind Riddick, Zim snorted.

"I… what?" Riddick asked, dumbfounded.

"Dunno your name." Tunaghost sing-songed dreamily. "Need a code name… mister poopypants."

Riddick stared. "That's… not my name…"

Her head wobbled as she tried to lift it. "Is tooo…. Poopy pants… mister."

Zim leaned on a nearby desk, clutching his sides as he howled. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he should be taking advantage of Riddick being stunned, but all the stress of the situation was coming out of him in a great, collective guffaw that he could not stop.

"I AM NOT," Riddick shouted, losing his composure, "MISTER POOPYPANTS, YOU GREEN HAIRED PUFFER FISH!"

"Poopy pants pooped his pants and dancy danced…" Her head drooped as she started to lose consciousness.

"I AM NOT—" He spun around, catching a second dart being stabbed downward at him. His claws clamped onto the wrist of a young girl in a black hoodie, staring at him with a hard expression. "A POOPYPANTS!"

All Zim's laughter left him in a rush as horror replaced humor. "Mikko! What are you doing here?"

"MY NAME IS RIDDICK! DO YOU HEAR ME? MY NAME IS RIDDICK, AND YOU WON'T FORGET IT, NO ONE CAN FORGET—" The dart began beeping. "—THAT MY NAME IS—" the beeping increased in volume. He frowned at it. "What is that beep—" The dart launched out of the casing that Mikko held, right into Riddick's neck. He froze, dropping her wrist. "Oh no… oh…. No no…"

"Nobody hurts my brother." Mikko balled her hand into a fist, pulling back her arm. "Not ever again." She brought her fist around, catching Riddick squarely on the jaw.

With the tranquilizers taking effect, he could do nothing but protest, "My… name… is Riddick…" before flopping over, his hat rolling away.

Zim darted over, grabbing her arm. "Why are you here?" He demanded. "This wasn't part of the plan!"

"Not yours." He glanced over to see Gaz walking woodenly into the room, looking like a plastic version of her normal form. "What did you think would happen the second you made contact, idiot? He was probably expecting Tunaghost the second you touched him cause he'd know about the plan that you told me." She tapped her head. "He didn't know about the plan we never discussed."

"That didn't give you license to bring Mikko into this!" He growled.

"Something's wrong with Dib, Zim. He's not acting like himself, and he doesn't feel like himself." She responded testily. "I can't ask him to be in on it, and he trained your sister. My options are kind of thin."

Mikko wrapped her arms around Zim tightly. "Don't be mad at me, Zim. I was just tired of sitting by while you got hurt trying to keep us safe."

Sighing, Zim hugged her back. "Fine. But I'm still skinning Dib for not being careful with that blaster later." He glanced at Gaz. "After we sort out what's wrong with him. For now, let's get this monster where he can't hurt Gloria."

Mikko released Zim, walking over to check on Tunaghost while Zim turned to Riddick. Bending over, he grabbed the Irken's wrists to haul him away.

Riddick's hands suddenly clamped around Zim's wrists as he rasped, "Not… yet…"

Zim's head snapped back, his eyes blank and staring at nothing, Riddick's marks glowing brightly. Mikko turned back, and lunged for him, shouting, "Zim!"

Gaz grabbed her arm, yanking her back. "No! Don't touch them! Something's happening! I don't know what it is, and if you touch him we could trigger something terrible!"

"But how do we make it stop?" Mikko strained against Gaz's grip.

Gaz stared at the two, frozen in their postures. "I don't know… right now, Zim is on his own."


	23. Mind Games

As Riddick's grip closed on Zim's wrist, the laboratory fell away. Gray-brown walls rose up on either side of him, close enough for him to almost touch either wall if he held his arms out in both directions. They elongated, forming a corridor that disappeared into darkness in either direction. Lights flickered dimly overhead, and the corridor was crisscrossed with silvery cobwebs, so thick he could barely move without a cluster of them wavering in the breeze.

"Clever, I must say." Zim turned to see Riddick a few feet behind him, brushing his arms off. "Extremely clever. I was so distracted by that bumbling pineapple that I didn't guess the second dart had a remote trigger. Well done… however my mind is still very much awake."

"Your mind? This is your mind?" He chuckled nervously. "Horrible place, but I'd expect nothing less."

Riddick eyed him in disgust. "No, this is _your_ mind, you idiot. You think I'd let you in _my_ mind? I came in with the last bit of coherency I had left. You're so broken you don't even know what your own mind looks like, how sad is that? Though, as pathetic as you are I, also, would expect nothing less."

"My mind?" Zim scanned the hall, eyes landing on the cobwebs everywhere. "My mind…" a short distance away was a gap in the cobwebs, the sort of gap that happened when something crashed through it. Several of the strands lay scattered on the ground, not at all like cobwebs would. His eyes widened. "We can't be here…" He turned back to Riddick. "Listen," he said tensely. "I don't know what you think you're doing, or what you hope to accomplish, but we need to leave. Don't touch anything. You have to get us out of here, now."

"Don't touch anything?" Riddick shook his head. "Tell me, Zim. You know I'm the enemy, you know I'm trying to kill you." He reached out, fingering a threat gingerly. "So why would you tell me, the guy who is looking for any way to destroy you… the way to destroy you?"

Zim's breath hitched. "You don't _understand!_ I said you need to get US out of here NOW. Do you really think you can wreck my mind _inside_ my mind and emerge unscathed? You have no idea—"

"If you couldn't defeat me out there, Zim, what makes you think anything in your broken little mind could?" His claws clipped a cobweb, the strand reverberating with a twang. "Whoops."

Zim flattened himself against the wall as a shadow rose up on the wall. A taller Irken silhouette with a shadow whip, the strands crackling with blue electricity. It raised the whip over its head, bringing it down, crossing the width of the hall to flog the front of Zim's body, barking at him, "A SOLDIER DOES NOT SHOW WEAKNESS."

Riddick eyed Zim as he staggered under the blow. "Well he seems like a great guy, doesn't he?"

The shadow dissipated, and Zim clutched at the wall, his body jerking from the shocks. "You need to get out! NOW!" The lights in the hall flickered, the darkness at the end of the hall closer than it had been before.

"Do I?" Riddick scoffed. "Or could I just do this?" He asked as his claws sliced through another strand.

This time a pair of shadows rise up opposite Zim, turned toward each other in discussion.

"Where should we cut first, the torso or the head?"

"We should save the head for later."

"You're right, if we do too much damage, he won't be able to answer questions after we map out his organs."

Zim doubled over, clutching the tattered remains of his sweater, suddenly drenched in dark green. Riddick shook his head. "Too bad I wasn't there back then. I could have cleaned up the mess for them."

Without warning, one of the two shadows turned to Zim, its sunken yellow eyes glowing against a featureless face. "You have two hours," a voice intoned.

Reeling back, Zim shrieked at the shadow, "NO! NO, I WON'T! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME, I WON'T DO IT!" The light in the hall flickered drastically.

Riddick straightened, peering at the shadow as it faded away. "Wait, who was that?"

Zim curled in on himself, rocking. "I won't do it, I won't…"

Riddick walked over to him, swatting cobwebs aside, the strands snapping loudly as he approached. "I asked you a question!" He grabbed Zim by what was left of his collar. "Who was that with the eyes?"

Zim's back arched as he screamed, a sinuous voice murmuring, _"Just a mouthful. That's all you'll ever amount to, tiny little Irken."_

Flailing, Zim scratched at Riddick's arms to get away, breaking several nearby strands himself as shadows stretched past Riddick, wrapping tightly around the hysterical Irken. Raising a glowing hand, Riddick dispatched the shadow memories, pulling Zim face to face with him. "If you value any part of your life, and want to get out of here alive, you will gather any shred of sanity you have left, and you will tell me when and where you saw those eyes. NOW."

The darkness at the end of the hall seeped closer, yet another shadowy form walking just ahead of it.

Zim grabbed Riddick's arms, struggling to string more than two thoughts together. His eyes rolled around as he tried to find a stabilizing thought. "N-need…" He closed his eyes, humming a tune brokenly. As he did, a couple of the strands reconnected, rising back in place. But the form is almost there. It was irken-shaped, and even in the darkness a hideous, gleaming smile was visible.

"Need what?" Riddick shouted at him. "TALK!"

Cowed, Zim sucked in a breath, trying to call together fragments. "D-Darkbooty agent... two hours... hurt... hurt my sister... no way out... hurt her... break her like... like her..." For a moment, the hall pulsed with a deep purple hue, before returning to flickering dim light. "…wanted... me... to break... my sister... I... I won't do it!" His eyes rolled back as he gasped, "I'll kill us both first and you can't stop me!"

Riddick stared at him. "But… why would he…" The irken form giggled, vanishing as Riddick turned to see it. It reappeared a couple feet away, bringing the darkness with it.

"No way out," Zim moaned, head lolling back.

The figure watching them was Zim. Or at least, it vaguely resembled the Irken in Riddick's grip. Same shape, same height, same skin tone. But the eyes were like pitch black holes staring at him, and it grinned at Riddick, its lips lined with tiny, sharp teeth. It giggled. "So, you're the one that let me out."

"No way out, no way out." Zim droned, eyes fixed on the far wall.

Dropping Zim, Riddick turned, arms folded. "Okay. I'll bite. What am I looking at?" Zim hit the floor, curling into a ball, still moaning.

It laughed. "Ohhhh mister magic doesn't know. Doesn't like not knowing does he. Should we play with him?" It turned its stare on Zim. What do you think, should we play? He wanted to play with us earlier...

"Ouuuuuut...ouuuuuuut..." Zim's moans dragged out.

Riddick's antenna flicked in irritation. "Since you clearly don't want to talk, I'll take a wild guess. You're the manifestation of Zim's insanity hmm?"

It clapped gleefully. "Ah, he's a good player, isn't he? Games are fun. But there's bigger games, bigger playtime." Shadows peeled off from the walls, wrapping around Riddick's arms. "I'm the better player. We always win when I play. And I'll keep playing, and playing, and playing, long after you losssssssst."

Riddicks arms glowed as he tried to yank free. "So you're, what, a protector for Zim? You're the reason he survived?" His arms didn't budge.

The creature's tooth-lipped grin grew wider. It lifted a finger, wagging it as if scolding a naughty child. "You forgot the ruuuuules, you're playing in MY game." It vanished, reappearing behind Riddick, and purring next to his head, "What do we do with our new toy, hmm? Maybe after we can play with all our new friends." Its eyes gleamed darkly. "They make us lose too many times."

Zim suddenly uncurled, leaping up to attach the creature. It vanished, and Zim fell through another clump of spiderwebbing that wrapped around him like a vise. It reappeared next to Riddick, giggling. "Too weak, too weak to play. Should'a run away when you could'a. Instead we lost again." It licked its lips, slicing its tongue along the teeth until green lined its lips. "Knives hurt. I don't like losing."

Riddick struggled against his restraints. "What kind of protector or coping device buries the real part? Doesn't sound like a protector, more like a usurper."

The creature laughed. "He started it, made us lose. Weak. Wanna see?" The pits of its eyes gleamed. It whispered gleefully, "Wanna feeeeeel it?" He trailed a claw down Riddick's chest. "You make a lotta losers, but you don't never lose, do you?"

Behind the Irken, the yellow-eyed shadow reared up, repeating words from the past. But the sound of its voice rang in Riddick's head with alarming familiarity. "Maybe a part of the bone marrow. Will he scream more? Try a drop of water in the bloodstream to see the effects. For scientific observation, of course."

On the floor, Zim struggled against his cocoon.

Riddick gritted his teeth. "Now I really need that idiot alive. You, figment of insanity, tell me something—"

"Yeeeesss?" It grinned, as the yellow-eyed shadow raked across Riddick's stomach, the shirt and skin parting with the precision of a scalpel at its touch.

"NNNNNGH—" Riddick's torso flared with tearing pain. He rasped, "If I'm not going to kill the idiot, why torture me? Don't you have bigger things to worry about?"

Its grin stretched around the sides of its head. "Big worries. Make sure no more losers make us lose the game. You make us lose. What you say?" It raised a hand, and Riddick's words echoed in the hall.

"Well you can look for mine as I rip your guts out... sometimes I have them dead, but I have to say it is much more fulfilling when they are alive. That way I can hear their screams. You are definitely going to be the latter."

The Irken slid a dripping, green tongue out between its lips. "We make screaming now?"

"You idiot!" Riddick struggled. "You're just as much an idiot as he is! How was I supposed to know it was that crippling? Besides, even if I don't kill you, someone else will. Who is this Dib that everyone was talking about when I was tranquilized? You're talking about him not being himself? You know, even if you're crazy, you have the same memories as Zim, he talked about an Agent Darkbooty having yellow eyes. Does this Dib have yellow eyes?"

The Irken opened his mouth like the hinge on a jar, roaring in Riddick's face, "DIB MAKES US LOSE!" He thrust a hand into Riddick's guts, twisting. "JUST CAUSE WE GOTTA SAME MOMMY DOESN'T MEAN I WON'T MAKE HIM LOSE IF HE LOOKS AT US FUNNY AGAIN!"

"RRRGNAAAH!" Riddick tried to breathe through the pain. "First off... that's not what I was asking... secondly…" he lifted his head. "Same mommy?" He shook it off. "Well guess what Zim's insanity-Zimsanity?—Nnnngh… there's a good probability that Dib is going to look at you funny, because if he has yellow eyes, you've lost him to an insanity you could only WISH you could become."

The grin never wavered, its claws twisting around in Riddick's guts like a child squeezing playdough. "Then I'm gonna make a big red mess."

"NNNNNO!" Zim thrashed against his bonds, screaming, "DIB!" the cocoon bulged as he shouted, "DIB. DELLA. MIKKO." A tear appeared down the front as Zim clawed it open wider. "TIANA. TOM. NO. DELLA. MANEEM!" He tore free, lunging at Riddick and grabbing at the shadows entrapping his arms. They dissolved as he yanked Riddick back. "MY MIND! LET GO!"

The creature's hand slid out of Riddicks' stomach as he was pulled back. It tilted its head to the side, frowning mildly. "Against the rules."

Wrapping an arm around Zim, Riddick winced. "I think I'll take you up on your offer of leaving now."

Zim shook, eyes fixed on his mirror self. "Warned… you… stupid…. How… get out?"

"Nope, no timeouts." The Irken spun, cartwheeling down the hall, crashing into every cobweb and wiping the hall clear.

Zim's face drained of color as the darkness in the hall opened a pair of bloodred eyes, fixed on him. "…..now….." he mouthed, unable to make his voice work.

"Just hold on." Riddick grunted.

….

Gaz took a breath of relief as Riddick shoved Zim off, ripping the dart out of his neck. Whatever happened, this Riddick seemed visibly shaken while Zim… Zim hadn't moved.

Riddick felt at his stomach, and she could hear him mutter, "Not there… but it hurt… that's a powerful entity." He fumbled to a sitting position, still listing to the side and stared at Gaz. "You. Morflar." He began crawling toward her. "Plans… changed. You listen... now… or we die."

Gaz's form darkened as she snarled, "The only person who's dying here is you if you come any closer!"

Mikko stared at Zim, who still hadn't moved from his position. His body had begun to shake, and loud bootsteps were coming toward the room.

"Listen to me!" Riddick grated out. "If whoever… comes in here… has yellow eyes… you get all of us… out…. Or you're dead."

"Leaving you won't kill me. If anything it'll keep my Mom alive!"

Riddick reached up, grabbing her dress and pulling her down, hissing, "I know I...havent made...good first impression. But...if you dont...get us out of here...right now...we're all going to die...you need me...to live...you think...what I did to you...was bad...what he does...there will be...nothing left..."

"He?" Gaz lifted her head as a figure stalked through the door, black trench coat turned up high, heading straight for Zim.

"Dib!" Mikko called, taking a step forward.

Dib paused for a moment. In that moment, Zim's head snapped forward, his eyes clear and lucid. He gasped, stumbling toward Dib. "D-dib…" he reached out, arms held out as if begging for anything, any scrap of a reason to hold on a moment longer. Dib's hand flashed up, burying a scalpel in Zim's side.

Zim's eyes fixed on Dib, bewildered, as the boy leaned forward, his eyes visibly yellow, and whispered, "Look where all your trust has gotten you."

"Dib, stop!" Mikko screamed, lunging forward.

" _What has my brother?"_ Gaz's thoughts screamed into Riddick's mind as her face twisted in horror.

"Dart… hasn't worn off… Get me… to… her…. Purple hair…. Can't think straight…. Tell you everything… promise, she won't die… if you don't, she might as well… be dead…"

As Dib withdrew the scalpel from Zim's side, Mikko reached out to Zim, in a headlong run toward him. At the motion from the corner of his eye, Zim shrieked, turning to strike Mikko across the face. He turned toward the door, stumbling out. His screaming laughter faded as he fled.

Billowing out, Gaz enveloped Riddick. In one smooth glide, she encompassed Tunaghost, and then Mikko, stopping in front of Dib. The boy smiled at her dryly.

"Won't you stay a moment, sister dear? We never talk anymore, it seems."

_"I'm not your sister, but whoever you are, you will pay for this. I swear."_

With that, she vanished.

Dib chuckled, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Riddick, you're on thin ice, my boy. Try to keep your head in the game, hmmm? You're so close to your goal."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going out on a limb with this chapter so do me a huge gigantic favor and DO NOT READ BETWEEN THE LINES. What you see is what you get. Ulterior motives not found. Thank you.

The minor bit of sleep Gloria had managed in the cliffside crevice had helped some, but she doubted she would be able to keep up with Red even at full rest and with a healed arm. She trudged after him, straggling quite a ways behind as he continued to storm on, antennae pressed against his skull in what could only be anger.

She didn't even know what to say to him. He had frightened her, yes, and all her defenses had risen against him, but even then she could see the difference. This still wasn't Tallest Red as she had known him. This was Red as Scar, who was hurt and frustrated by her behavior.

He was trying so hard. She saw him extending every possible olive branch to her while still believing forgiveness was completely out of reach. Still, she could not bring herself to let go of the fear. Better to fear and be proved right, losing nothing, than hold to hope and be shattered again.

_But it isn't just about me. It's bigger than me._

Abruptly, Red turned on his heel, wheeling around and walking back to her. His antennae had loosened from their place back into a normal position and his face, though solemn, was not angry.

She had rarely seen him without his armor. Once, the first time she'd seen him, and a second time in recent days, but she hadn't been paying attention. As he drew closer, she saw the scars, crisscrossed on his torso and chest. She'd never allowed herself to think much on the shape of his waist before, but it seemed painfully, unnaturally thin for an Irken. His royal red skirt was torn off ragged at the knees, showing calf-high black fitted boots. She glanced down at the strips of red cloth that splinted her arm and held it in a sling.

He stopped, three feet from her, and inclined his head at her. "Apologies for leaving you behind." He said quietly. "I lost my temper. Please allow me to help you."

She hesitated. "How much farther?"

"Zim's base is still several more miles. You are injured, and you dragged a Tallest today." He bent forward slightly. "Human bodies are less durable, Lady Gloria, than Irken bodies."

She riled at that, slightly, but dismissed it, nodding.

"I am going to carry you, you understand?" He asked cautiously.

"You can do that?" She blinked.

"You are not nearly as heavy as my armor." He replied dryly. "It is only a matter of if you allow it."

He would, no doubt, be able to get them to Zim's base much faster than if she straggled on like this, and she could feel the painkillers he'd given her starting to wear off. She nodded, crossing her good arm over her broken one to brace it. Carefully, Red bent down and lifted her up. She could feel the tension in her body the second he touched her, but he just turned back and continued onward.

_I should try. At least ask something I don't know._

"Were you born—or made—with ribs like that?" She winced. That hadn't come out right.

Red's mouth quirked slightly. "I was born, not cloned, though I'm sure the Control Brains would rather that particular bit of information stay buried. And no." His eye twitched slightly. "The day you're chosen to be Tallest, they crush your ribs and snip a claw off."

Gloria shuddered. "That's disgusting."

He glanced down at her, raising an eyeridge. "Maybe to you. To us it's a rite of passage into rulership."

"But what's the reasoning for it?"

"I don't know. Why do you drill multiple holes in your audio units and hang decorations off them, or press needles into your skin until you have pictures?"

Gloria didn't have an answer for him.

"Your planet has very strange customs, and that's just in some areas. I've never seen a more divided race anywhere in the galaxy. If I were to put a new technology in front of your world leaders, they would begin a war over what to name it."

She sighed. "I know. They need help. From what I've seen, the Irkens are more unified than us, but there's no expression. No real joy in anything but destruction. No individuality."

"And those who are too individual are deemed defectives." He sighed. "I know. They need help."

Gloria lapsed into silence, and Red did too as they came to the edge of the city. He paused behind a building to place a disguise patch on her and himself, and moved on. And nobody paid much mind to the mop-haired gardener carrying a little purple-haired girl as he moved through the city, making his way toward Zim's base.

….

"IS YOU HERE, TACO?" A little silver-haired boy greeted them at the door. "I was spectating you!" He beamed, pulling them inside. "Master said make everything comfy in case we had visits, gotta sleeper room for ya, an' a washin' up room, an' an eatin' room, an' a room for watchin' the TV."

"Very good G-001." Red sighed, setting Gloria down.

"GIR," the SIR corrected him mildly, "Name's GIR."

"GIR then, does Zim have a bone stimulator?"

Saluting, GIR dashed off.

"A bone stimulator?" Gloria raised an eyebrow. "I thought your PAKs fixed your bodies, why would you make another device?"

"That is an extremely taxing process on the PAK's system, and a waste of emergency resources." Red replied. "Whenever possible, it is good to use alternative methods of healing." GIR reappeared moments later, holding up what looked like a blood pressure cuff. Taking it, Red turned, sliding it past the sling and wrapping it around where the break was. "It will be maybe two hours until complete healing."

"If that's the case, I think I'll rest." She glanced around. "The sleeping quarters he mentioned are where?"

Red didn't answer, watching her for a moment, before responding, "Lady Gloria, there is something I would like to do before you go to rest."

"What exactly is that?" She asked warily.

"I want help you understand that you are a ruler and not a slave." He pressed on. "Maybe that is why you have such trouble when I talk to you now, or why you keep thinking I will return you to a cell. You don't rebuke me as a fellow ruler would, you accept as if you're still a slave."

"What did you have in mind?"

He shifted, glancing away uncomfortably. "I…" he took a breath, shut his eyes, and blurted, "I wish to wash you."

She stared at him. That was the last thing she'd expected out of his mouth.

"I realize it puts you in what you may feel is an extremely vulnerable situation however that is not the intention you see," his words came out all in a rush, and his eyes were still shut tight, as if he couldn't stand to see her face as he explained, "it is something done for Tallests because they are rulers and should not have to wash themselves, we have drones to do it for us and to make it a relaxing experience." At her silence, he continued, more haltingly, "There… are no drones… but… you should understand… that you are ruler… subject to no one."

"And you?" Her voice came out slightly higher than she intended. "What does it mean if one Tallest washes another?"

He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on the floor. "A Tallest never washes anybody. But Scar would."

Gloria closed her own eyes, fatigue seeping into her muscles.

_He has done nothing but respect and protect me. How long am I going to keep pushing him away?_

She nodded her head shortly. At his silence she glanced over, realizing he was still staring at the floor, arms held tightly to his sides. He was expecting her rejection, and hadn't even looked up.

"Yes." She said quietly.

His head snapped up, eyes wide for a moment, before he recovered his calm, dipping his head. "I will go make a washing then." He paused, biting his lip. It crossed her mind that he had, as he said, never done this, and probably didn't even know what to do. "Just… wait here, I'll be back." He turned, leaving the room as quick as he could.

She sat on the couch, pulling her legs up and leaning on the armrest. Maybe she could doze a little first.

A movement at the door caught her attention. A shadow slipped in under the crack, billowing up and peering around. She bolted to her feet without a second thought, running over and throwing her good arm around the shadow. Gaz caught her, surprised, wrapping around her gently.

_"Mom, you're here! You're okay? Are you okay? Tell me you're okay!"_

"I'm fine. I broke my arm in the fall, but Red's fixing it."

 _"He'd better if he knows what's good for him."_ Gaz growled.

"Gaz…" She reached up, trying to touch near the eyes. The face lowered to Gloria's hand. "He's trying. He is."

 _"If you say so."_ She responded, unhappily.

"And you? Red said you were injured, are you alright?"

 _"Recovering."_ Gaz held Gloria tightly for a moment before releasing her. _"But I don't have time. I have to deliver something to GIR. We're going to make sure you stay safe, Mom."_

"We?"

_"Me and that stupid Zim. We've got it covered."_

Bits of ceiling crumbled around them. "You need me Gazzy?" GIR hung upside down in front of Gaz from a hole in the ceiling. "Heard you talkin'!" He beamed.

 _"Yes. I have instructions from Zim."_ She held up a device. _"Put this in your head, he said."_

GIR took it, suddenly solemn. "Okay Gazzy, take care'a Mastah for me kay?"

 _"Whatever."_ Gaz grumbled as he disappeared back through the hole. She turned back to Gloria, brushing her hair back gently. _"I have to go. Stay here, okay? Stay safe."_

"You stay safe too, Gaz." She watched as Gaz slipped back under the door. "Please stay safe…"

"Was someone here?" She turned to see Red at the kitchen entrance.

"Just Gaz, leaving some instructions for GIR. She and Zim are handling the attacker, it seems. She sounded confident."

"I hope so." His eyes flicked to the door, and back to her again. "The washing is… um…. it's…." Mutely he gestured to the trash can chute.

She could feel the muscles in her shoulders locking tightly as she walked toward the chute, climbing into the lift. It carried her down several levels, stopping at an opening. Inside was a slightly roughed floor of some unknown substance. Toward the center of the room, a large mound of bubbles sat on the floor. She scanned the room in confusion, looking for a tub.

_The bubbles?_

She approached them cautiously, and poked one foot down into them. Her foot slipped through the bubbles and into warm water.

_It's sunk into the floor._

The room was rather brightly lit, and she felt strange and uneasy removing her clothes. Waving some of the bubbles aside, she made out a short flight of steps leading down into the bath. She eased in, the warm, clean water stinging her cuts, but easing her aches. Unsure if the device on her arm was waterproof, she kept her left arm above the water as she waded in further. She could feel a seat molded into the side of the bath, and she floated into it, laying her head against the edge of the floor as the bubbles floated back in place.

A quiet whoosh and the hiss of the lift was all it took for all the tension to come rushing back.

The harsh light dimmed to a gentle warmth, barely bright enough to see with. The walls, previously blank white surfaces, now danced with slowly weaving pinpoints of glowing light. She could feel him settle onto the floor behind her.

 _He's not the same. He's not the same._ She held herself in place by will alone, repeating the words in her mind over and over.

A hand, covered in skin-tight rubber, gently lowered her left arm to the water. "It is water repellent." Red assured her.

She looked up. Scar looked down at her, his eyes holding heavier worries than the days she'd spent climbing Scourge Cliffs with him. He tilted her head back forward, and placed his hands on her neck and shoulders, carefully kneading them.

She winced. His hands moved awkwardly, like he had seen the action performed many times and was attempting to mimic it.

_But he is trying._

He tilted her forward. She could see him reach into her vision, grabbing a bar of soap. She felt it along her back, moving in circles along her skin as the hands alternately rubbed soap and water up and down her back. The hands lowered into the water, scrubbing her sides gently, and up and down her arms. At one point, the soap was placed in her hand. She looked up.

"That is earth water… my gloves only go up to the elbows." He'd turned his eyes to the side.

_That's not why he's giving me the soap._

As she finished washing the rest of her body, she was surprised to realize her anxiety had lowered to almost nothing. She felt almost safe, and even more, cared for. She returned the soap to the edge of the floor. "Finished."

His hands turned her head forward again, and he began unbinding her braid. Laying her to the side to wet her hair, he lifted her again and began working his claws through her hair. A pleasant scent filled her nostrils, and soap bubbles dripped onto her shoulders.

He lathered her hair for several minutes before finally laying her back again, rinsing it out. He lifted her back to a sitting position, then stood and crossed to the opposite wall. He lifted a towel and a robe off a hook there, and returned to stand behind her. "When you are ready, Lady Gloria."

For some reason, she found she didn't need to check and see if he was looking. She knew he wouldn't. She climbed out of the bath, shrugging into the bathrobe he held out for her and tying it around her. "Done."

The towel pressed against her head, then a little lower against more of her hair. A short nervous laugh left her, and he paused.

"You don't know how to dry hair, do you?" She turned, taking the towel. "If you try and blot it dry we'll be here for days." Amusement. How long had it been since she felt that? "It's okay to let a machine do it. I usually do."

He nodded, steering her toward the wall and pressing his hand against it. "Drying." He stated, and a small indent appeared in the wall, the height and width of Gloria's body. He positioned her to stand in front of it, and she felt a short blast of warmth. Touching her head, she felt clean, dry hair.

Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the lift, rising one level with her. It opened into a medium sized room with a queen sized bed, with down quilts and three layers of pillows.

In spite of herself, she felt her legs lock up, and she was unable to step out of the lift.

His hand removed from her shoulder, his voice heavy as he said, "Lady Gloria. That is for _you_. However as your life is still in danger, you must still be under watch. If there was an Irken guard I could place in here to stand watch as you slept, I would. But there is not, so I must. I will keep watch from the opposite side of the room." He moved past her, taking a position against the far wall, fixing his eyes on the ground.

_Move._

She lifted one foot, and planted it in the room. Her other foot followed, and she drifted across the room, step by step, until she was seated on the bed. She kept her eyes on Red the entire time. Red, who had put on his Scar disguise to set her more at ease. Red, who had just bathed her without harming her, in spite of his status. Red who had even that morning cushioned a fall that would have killed her.

"R…" her voice faded out, fear stealing her words. She braced herself, and tried again. "Red." His eyes shifted toward her. "You… you're tired."

"What of it?"

"You should sleep."

"It won't be necessary."

Co-ruler, he said. Equal, he said. She straightened her back, forcing the words out. "Yes it is. If you must… stand guard… then at least rest while you do." She scooted to the far side of the bed, pulling the covers up, and turned to face the wall.

The edge of the bed sagged, and she felt the covers shift as he crawled under. She turned her head to see him facing the opposite direction, hunched at the very edge of the mattress.

_Nothing but respectful._

She put a hand on his shoulder, and she could feel him— _Tallest Red_ —tense at the contact.

"It's okay." She heard herself saying. "There's not room for that."

He didn't move, and she tugged on his shoulder, rolling him back. His eyes fixed on her, and she saw fear glinting there.

"What are _you_ afraid of?"

"How is this different?" He demanded, his arms locked against his sides. "How is this different than before? How do I know if I'm doing something wrong or not?"

Gloria looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. The Almighty Tallest, commander of the Armada, and in some ways he was still a child. A broken, twisted child at times, but a child who was still learning right from wrong, and was afraid of making a mistake and being punished for it.

"You're not doing anything wrong." She said quietly. "I said you could lie down here, and you can. We're going to get some rest and sleep so we can figure out what to do tomorrow. That's all. That's okay."

"You're sure?" He searched her face. "You're sure that's alright?"

She lay back down next to him, so that her arm was touching his. "I'm sure."

The words barely left her lips before the exhaustion took her, plunging her headlong into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know there is a vast difference between sexual and intimate. This scene is intimate, and not sexual.


	25. In His Sights

In the middle of Zim's upper living room, a shadow materialized, rigid with shock, and swarming with three thought patterns not her own.

_Follow Zim!_

_Find Zim!_

_Take me to her._

Floating to the side, Gaz relinquished Mikko as she moved. Almost immediately, Mikko stumbled to her feet, lunging for the door. A wire shot from the wall, wrapping around her wrist as GIR's rather solemn voice sounded from a speaker in the ceiling, "Operation Keepsafe initiated. Ya gotta stay."

Mikko wrenched back, and Gaz could see blood on her face. "Let go! Zim needs me!"

"Sorry." GIR's voice sounded sad, as tiny needles sank into Mikko's wrist through the wire. Her knees gave out, pitching her back as more wires caught her. Her body relaxed, her eyes closing as the wires dragged her into another part of the house.

 _"Operation Keepsafe?"_ Gaz asked.

"Masta's instructions." GIR's voice trembled. "Said if I feel he's not ok in his PAK. He's not ok. I started like he said."

_"Started what?"_

"Keepsafe."

Gaz shook it off. She had more important things to worry about than the details of Keepsafe. Drifting to the side again, she released Tunaghost. The former agent lay on her side for a couple moments, collecting herself. The drugs had begun to wear off already, and she pushed herself up, wobbly. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Gaz. "Interesting. You know, that information scrape you do," she gestured at her head, "Goes both ways. So, Mothman's against us, and Zim's running around out of his mind?" At Gaz's mute nod, Tunaghost sighed. "Well." She struggled to stand, accepting the few flares Gaz held out to help. "Sounds like he needs someone to keep an eye on him. You didn't happen to see which way he ran?"

_"No. But there will be witnesses. Maybe even casualties…"_

Tunaghost nodded grimly. "Follow the trail. Got it." She patted the flare holding her up. "Do what you need to do here, I'll hold the… what do you call him… the idiot, in line."

A weak chuckle escaped Gaz. _"Yeah. Hey GIR, got any extra weapons?"_

A small arsenal dropped from the ceiling. Tunaghost selected a couple blasters, four or five stun grenades, and a couple objects she couldn't identify. Just in case. Nodding to Gaz again, she walked out the door. GIR did not stop her.

Turning inward to the last person inside of her, Gaz reached into his mind, rummaging through his surface thoughts—none too gently—to be sure of his motives. She couldn't see anything, his mind was a blank wall with only the repeating thought, "Take me to her."

_"You listen to me, worm. If you lift a hand against her, I will make your last moments stretch for years. What Zim almost went through, you will experience full-force, understand?"_

"Take me to her."

Ejecting Riddick, Gaz hurled him down to the floor. He sat up, fixing his hat. "Not exactly five star class transportation, but I'll take it." He stood, calmly. "So, is she here?"

Gaz stretched herself taller, staring down menacingly. _"I'll answer you once you tell me what we're up against. You promised. What has my brother?"_

"I said I would tell you _after_ I saw the woman and got what I needed to know. It's a bit more imperative than telling you about it now. Everyone should be present for that matter."

 _"Then stay here."_ Gaz turned away.

"Wait!" Riddick called. "One last thing. She must be blindfolded. She can't see me. I don't care what you use, but she can't see me, it's the only stipulation."

_"Why?"_

"It's something I'm trying to find out myself, but in order to find out, I have to follow that rule."

Confused and uneasy, Gaz vanished, leaving him to wait alone.

….

_"Gloria!"_

_She looked up from her position on her knees in the garden, a weed in one hand. Someone was running toward her. She shielded her eyes. The figure was dressed in white. It looked almost like—_

_A lab coat._

_She rose to her feet with a cry, pelting headlong toward the figure, arms outstretched. "Ivan!" She called. She ran into his open arms, wrapping her own tightly around him, burying her face in his chest. "Ivan, I missed you."_

_"My Glory," His voice sounded strange. "What have you done?"_

_She looked up, puzzled, and drew back with a shriek._

_A rotting face stared down at her, the side of the head blown off. The coat was stained in dried and crusted blood, and the arms remained woodenly outstretched._

_"What have you doooone?" He groaned. "Traiiiiitor..."_

_She backed away, horrified. Her heels hit something solid and she fell backwards. At her feet, a small green form lifted its head, mismatching eyes staring at her piercingly. "Mama," it moaned._

_"Mama." She turned her head. All around her were scattered tiny little green bodies, some lying in pieces. All of them had turned to her, eyes fixed on hers, voices speaking in unison._

_"Mama."_

_"Stop!" She screamed, scrambling to her feet to run. A vise-like grip caught her arm, as the Professor stopped her._

_"You betrayed me," he whispered, his death-soured breath choking her. "And you couldn't save them. Now it's your turn."_

"Lady Gloria! Lady Gloria!" A voice cut through the images around her, shredding them as she woke from her dream, thrashing in the grip of someone much stronger.

"GET OFF, GET OFF!" She lashed out. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Immediately the grip released. She rolled off the bed, bolting to her feet, trying to re-establish her surroundings.

Red sat at the edge of the bed. He had found a red long-sleeved shirt and black pants to replace his ripped royal skirt. He watched her, expressionless. "You were dreaming."

She turned away from him, feeling sick. "Yes. Dreaming."

"What about?" He asked quietly.

"Nothing. Nevermind." She said sharply, regretting her tone the second she finished. The bed creaked slightly as Red stood, and input a command to the panel in the wall. A small shelf extended, with Gloria's clothes cleaned and mended sitting there, neatly folded.

"I will wait in the lift." He said tonelessly, turning toward the elevator. He halted a foot from the door, as the frame darkened, a shadow peeling out from it. He backed up several steps, antennae flat against his skull as red eyes narrowed at him.

Gloria stepped forward, even with him, and reached a hand out. "Gaz," she said quietly. "We were resting after a difficult trip. He was acting as guard."

The eyes shifted to her for a moment, before softening. They shifted back to Red, and Gaz's voice sounded, unhappily.

_"Plans fell apart. Zim lost his mind and ran. The Irken responsible for the attack is upstairs, insisting he wants only to speak to her, not kill her."_

Red's shoulders rose, and anger colored his voice. "You brought him here? And you left Zim on his own?"

_"Something dangerous is coming, something more dangerous than him. He seemed to be afraid of it, maybe. I don't know, but he promised he would explain if he could talk to Mom. He also says she has to be blindfolded."_

"Why should we do anything he says? How can we trust he isn't going to kill her?" Red demanded.

_"It wasn't in any of his thoughts, he just wanted to see her, talk to her… we have to know what this thing is that's coming!"_

"What thing?!"

Gloria put a hand on Red's arm, and he stilled. "Maybe we need to find out by speaking to him." She said quietly. Looking up at Gaz she asked, "And I have to be blindfolded?"

_"That's what he said."_

She took a deep breath, and nodded. "We'll be up shortly."

….

Gaz reappeared near Riddick, hovering closeby. They waited in silence, until the sound of whirring from the kitchen signaled the arrival of the lift. Red emerged from the kitchen, leading Gloria by the arm. Her hand was clamped tightly to his arm, her steps unsteady. A strip of white cloth—bedsheet—had been wrapped twice around her eyes and tied at the back.

Coldly, Red gauged Riddick, his voice hard. "So. You're the threat. Gaz has made it clear it's urgent that we all meet, that Zim lost his mind, but that there was something worse than you involved."

"Yes, there is. Please," Riddick gestured to the couch. "Sit her down."

Keeping his eyes on Riddick, Red guided Gloria to the couch, helping her sit. Her hands remained locked on his arm, her mouth a thin, tight line. His face twitched slightly, but he continued watching. "Who are you, and why did you try to kill Lady Gloria?"

In a flash, half a dozen little red balls circled Gaz, and large red swords of varying sizes appeared around Gloria, inches from her. "So here's how this is going to go," Riddick stated, ignoring Red's question. "If you cooperate fully with me, she lives. If you don't, I fulfill my mission, leave, and forget this ever happened. At this point I'm actually preferring option one, but this is insurance because your morflar is an unstable hothead—partly due to me—and you, well… you're a Tallest, and I don't feel like dealing with you right now." He waved a hand dismissively. "So outside, both of you."

Red stood where he was, unmoving. His eyes fell on Gaz, baleful. "So. This meeting is perfectly safe, you implied. He just wants to see her, you said. Were you really this stupid?"

Gaz stood frozen, her eyes wide and rounded. "I…"

Turning his attention back to Riddick, Red spat venomously, "I don't know what hole you crawled out of, but you will drop this attack. I can have all the resources of the Massive pointed to this exact location the second I remove the cloaking on my PAK."

"Do you have to be difficult?" Riddick sighed. "I said if you cooperate she WON'T die. So are you sacrificing her life for stupidity?"

"Because I can't know she'll live if I leave this room. You've given no reason for any of us to trust you so far. And some of us should have taken that into consideration before bringing you here in the first place."

Gaz shrank down in shame and mortification.

"Allow me to be perfectly blunt here 'Almighty Tallest'," Riddick sneered, "You don't really have a choice. If you don't cooperate, it won't matter even if I didn't kill her. The other being that is coming will. You don't have a choice. This is your best option, so don't blame the Morflar for taking it."

Slowly, Red turned to Gloria, prying her fingers off his arm. He took her hand, squeezing her fingers so they jammed painfully against the ring she wore. "Remember, he can't touch you. You are co-ruler." With that, he stood, stiffly marching out the door to the front yard. Gaz puddled after him, emitting muffled crying noises.

The second Red's footsteps faded out of earshot, Gloria pressed a thumb to the side of the ring, activating the skin-tight force field over her body.

"If that makes you feel better." Riddick drawled. "So, this is you. You're the one he cares about so much. Why would he care so much about you? A simple human… with all that purple, no less."


	26. The Face of Hope

_Breathe. Just keep breathing. Everything will be alright. Just… keep…_

"The first time I should have just killed you." Riddick's voice cut through her fearful thoughts. "But unfortunately, I have a certain… loathing of that color palette on your head, and I wasn't expecting it. Things got difficult, another meddlesome Irken got in my way, and I got stuck in his mind. Let me tell you, it's a mess in there, and I don't know if he'll ever be right again after that."

Half-rising from the couch, Gloria seized on his words. "The other Irken, is he…" she paused, forcing herself to calm her voice. _Co-ruler. What would an Irken ask?_ "…is he functional?"

"Is he okay?" Riddick snorted. "I doubt it. I was inside his mind and his inner insanity got free and ran rabid in his mind. I managed to get us back out, but unfortunately that Dib fellow's been taken over, and stabbed Zim in the side with a scalpel I believe. I was a bit out of it. Last I saw the little green psycho he was running out, screaming like a banshee."

Gloria's chest twisted. Zim… but Dib too? "What do you mean taken over?"

"That other big force I was hinting at? The one that hired me to kill you? He's taken over that boy's body, a form of possession if you will. But let's get back to me, shall we?"

She sank back down to the couch, rocking slightly. _Zim… Dib… taken… it's dark… so dark…_ She kept her thumb pressed against the wedding ring and reached up to pull at the blindfold, but the skintight forcefield covered it, repelling her hand.

"See, I wouldn't even care enough to tell you these things and let you live if I wasn't the tiniest bit curious. The insanity in Zim's mind called you Mommy, and called Dib his brother as he tore my guts out—in my mind at least—so that brings it back to you, and what makes you so special. Producing hybrids? How does one do that and live, before becoming ruler?"

The futile clawing at the blindfold became more frantic at his question, but she was still unable to touch it. "I… I was… it's dark, I…" She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to gather herself. _You are co-ruler, not a slave._

"You keep saying it's dark," Riddick remarked, "But you can't remove the blindfold. You obviously won't answer anything in this state, can I do something to make you comfortable while you keep it on?"

"Let me take it off, I'll turn away from you, but just let me take it off."

Considering this, Riddick sighed. "I'll go behind you." He walked around to stand behind the couch. "You may take it off."

Releasing the force field, Gloria reached up, all but tearing the cloth from her face, gasping like she was breathing for the first time since entering the room. She fixed her eyes forward, her voice already calmer. "What was the question again?"

"How does one produce hybrids and live, before becoming ruler?"

She focused on a spot on the wall. _He hasn't killed me yet…_ "I was... a prisoner. For... I lost count... they said I was gone ten years when I came back... Zim said it could have been longer with space travel."

"So, what? You popped out babies for the wonderful Irken Empire and just decided, 'Hey that wasn't so bad, why not rule the place'?" Riddick sneered.

Gloria's fingers curled, unexpected anger granting her voice a more even tone. "Actually I came back home hoping to forget Irkens even existed, my only reminder being Zim when he came to fix my eyes. But Tallest red formed an alliance with Earth and needed to complete it with something called Sempadinum, and made me co-ruler. That is all."

"Sempa-whatnow?"

"Some kind of Irken word." Gloria frowned. "I thought you would know it. He said it meant an eternal bond."

"Sorry if I don't know," Riddick shot back, "Considering the closest Irkens come to bonding with things is using chains, which you discovered." Gloria's hands went to her wrists instinctively. "So what, you were in the breeding program for ten years and only two kids? I doubt that."

Her throat tightened. "It isn't your business."

"It is my business if you want to live."

She set her jaw, glaring at the wall. "I had Dib before I was abducted. And Zim is the only one who survived. All the others were destroyed shortly after birth, I was told. Zim was thrown through some sort of time device. Managed to land on Irk a century before and survived."

"And that worked out quite nicely for him and his psyche, but the Irken training programs never were lovely. You're co-ruler now, you should go and see how the smeets are treated."

Gloria held herself very still. Zim had hinted to her, but never said. "What… happens to them?"

Riddick pulled no punches. "The second they are born their thrust into training, and only the strongest live. They are tortured until they either break, or suppress all displays of emotion and just follow blindly. This goes on until the day they go out on a ship and are lucky to end their suffering in an explosion or being chucked out an airlock. Some life."

Gloria lowered her face into her hands.

"As co-ruler I thought you would know how much of a mess your planet is." Riddick said, mockingly. "Naughty Tallest keeping secrets. So maybe in hindsight, its a good thing your children died quickly, because what if they didn't, hm? They're put in training and lucky enough to survive and get a janitorial position? What kind of a world is that hm? To co-rule without any knowledge no less? I'd think you of all people, being held captive 10 years, would want to know what goes on, because there's an awful lot that does and none of its good. And what, you forgive them? You want to _save_ them? What is there to save? What is there to redeem? Why don't you just walk away and watch them burn? What makes you think there is hope? Just like I asked Zim, I ask you, what makes you think you can make a difference?"

The room tilted as her mind reeled. She couldn't place the blame for this on Red. She didn't seek out this information, did not want to know. She hid herself away in her room while Red tried to change things on his own. But how could he hope to change what he probably didn't even recognize as harmful? She had left the burden on him out of her own fear, and it had cost the whole Empire in the time it took her to step forward. And now, she might never have the chance. Her voice sounded unsteady in her own ears. "I can't save them. I barely know them. I obviously don't know them at all… but Red. I can help him. He's already changing. He's not who he was. If he can learn, he can change the course of Irk."

"He can? The Tallest responsible for so many of these actions, you honestly think _he_ can save Irk? I've seen the family psyche, and it's not too great."

"Then why am I here?" Gloria spread her hands out. "Why am I co-ruler instead of rotting in the cells? Why isn't the Earth a pile of rubble? Why are you here to kill me if something isn't changing?"

"Change." Riddick's voice darkened. "Change?" His hat sailed past her head, hitting the floor as he threw it. "Everything's just hunky-dory now isn't it? Oh look at the Tallest, he's all better now, let's throw him a party! Let's try and fix Irk, whoop-de-doo! Let's go and cure the insane Irken, and stop what could be the strongest force in the universe from possessing your son and go save a planet that is SO pathetic, it gives the Slaughtering Rat People a standard. Sounds like a plan to me! Sounds like a great one! Because Irk has done so much for me, and my life! And my existence! I SHOULD JUST PAY THEM BACK, SHOULDN'T I? SHOULDN'T I?"

Gloria's arms had clamped to her sides again, her thumb back on the ring, the force field securely in place.

A deep, shaky breath sounded from behind her. "My, that was rather uncouth of me, wasn't it?"

"What did they do to you?" She asked, quietly.

"Why do you care? I'm the enemy."

"If your objective was to kill me, you would have already done so when the force field was down. What did they do to you?"

Sighing in irritation, Riddick droned, "If you must know, they're the reason I lost the only person I could ever call family because I never knew my real family, okay? I'm an orphan. Happy to know? Does it make you feel better to know?"

She frowned. "I thought all Irkens were orphans. Cloned all around. You don't have families, and your names are handed out by some machine at birth."

"All I know is I was found, and not on Irk. I don't know how a smeet tube could survive space travel and a crash. Besides, I had a name and… I knew it already."

A bitter smile crossed Gloria's face. "That's right. You still haven't even told me your name. So what is this name you already knew?"

"If you must know everything about me, my name is Riddick. At least, that's what I was named when I was found. It's all I would say for two months afterward. So why not, that's my name."

Every muscle in Gloria's body froze, and at that moment, she stopped breathing.

After a brief silence, Riddick asked, "Are you alright?"

"That's no Irken name." Gloria half turned without thinking.

"NO! You can't see me!" Riddick shouted, "Stop or die!"

She jerked her head back, her breathing uneven. "You said you knew this name, and it was all you could say. That you were found somewhere, and it wasn't likely a smeet tube could have survived a trip that far away. How long ago. How old are you?" She cut herself off with a strange laugh, saying, almost to herself, "What am I asking, why would it matter if it was the time machine."

"Maybe that whole insane gene isn't just from the Tallest." Riddick muttered.

Ignoring his statement, Gloria pleaded, "Listen to me, if I'm not allowed to see you, please let me touch your face. You can..." She fell silent a moment, then released the force field. " You can blindfold me again... if that helps."

Riddick pondered this a moment. "Just promise me you will not look. Can I trust you?" He chuckled. "What am I saying, I will kill you if you don't comply."

"I will not look without your permission." She promised, closing her eyes. She held her hands out, palms up as she heard his footsteps circling around in front of her. "Your face."

"Okay then." She felt claws take her hands, placing them against his cheeks. "There. That's my face."

Her hands traveled over his face as if they had done it before, and several times. It was a very gentle, almost tender touch as her hands traced his cheeks, his forehead, passed over his eyes, the center of his face, his chin. Her mouth trembled and she repeated the path once more, as if assuring herself of something.

"You must really enjoy my face there." Riddick quipped. "I didn't think it was that special."

Gloria's hands came to rest on his cheeks, and stopped moving. Quietly, she began to speak. "A long time ago a woman with purple hair was prisoner in the dark. She was forced to have many children, and they were all taken away. And she lost hope that anything would ever change. One day, she gave birth again. But this time it was different, because this time there were two. There had never been two before. The first one was very quiet, and didn't make a sound. The second one cried and would not be quiet."

Riddick shifted, something felt off. "I thought we went over the fact you were in the breeding program."

Gloria continued. "The woman with purple hair knew she had a chance. Nobody knew she had given birth to two. She could try and save one. But she could not hide the crying one. So she took the quiet one, and she hid him the only place she could-in her long purple hair. And so when the guards came to take her child away, they only took one, and the other was hidden."

Riddick shuddered. "Hidden in Purple hair? Sounds awful."

Tears leaked out from her closed eyes as her thumbs stroked his cheekbones. "She was able to keep him as a secret for a time. It might have been a few weeks, or a couple months. There was always a period of time for the woman's body to recover from birthing. She was in the dark, and she could only know what her baby looked like by touching his face, learning what it felt like. She had done this for her other children in hopes of finding them one day, but she had only had a few moments with them. She learned the face of this one every day for weeks. And she..." Her voice caught. "She tried to teach him his name."

Silence.

Past a throat fast closing with feelings, she managed, "She called him Riddick."


	27. Lost Boys

Yanking his face out of Gloria's hands, Riddick stammered, "There are a lot of Riddicks around."

At his motion, Gloria pitched forward to the ground, unbalanced. From her hands and knees, she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "She couldn't hide him forever though. And they found him when…" her voice faltered. "They… they found him. The last thing she heard from him was… he said his name."

"That was nice of him, poor baby named Riddick," His voice was tense, "Could have been anyone, yes anyone, that's for sure."

In a low voice, Gloria demanded, "Why? Why doesn't the person who sent you want me to see you, Riddick? What possible reason could they have? Zim made my eyes, programmed them to recognize a genetic match by accident. It could prove who you are. Is that why?"

"There's nothing to find out!" Riddick insisted. "Everyone I care about is dead, that's just how it is!"

"Then what is this person hiding from you? I don't need to see you to know. I'd know the feel of that face anywhere."

Riddick put out a hand to steady himself. "No. No, you're just a job. That's all you are. You aren't her. She's dead. She left me alone, she didn't want me."

"Didn't want…" Gloria stretched out her hands blindly, arms trembling. "Riddick, you… and every child… were the only good things… I wanted so much, but I wasn't," she sobbed, "I wasn't strong enough, and I couldn't stop… I'm sorry…"

"No." Riddick backed away from her. "Stay away from me. I refuse to believe this. I won't—you aren't—"

"I'm sorry," She kept sobbing, "I'm sorry."

"Stop crying!" He shouted, ancient echoes of the same cry ringing through his head, "Stop it this instant!"

She pressed her hands to her mouth, stopping up the words, but unable to hold back the tears. She rocked forward and back slightly, the words turning back inside and tearing at her.

Riddick stared at her, unwarranted feelings escaping the cold grip he'd always been able to keep on them. One of them slipped past his guard and left his mouth in a mumble. Gloria's crying softened as she tilted her head to hear him better. In spite of himself, he turned his head away, repeating, "Open your eyes."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her open hers. She peered at him, but shook her head slightly. "It happened when I saw Zim's face… you're turned away from me."

Gritting his teeth, Riddick turned forward, looking down at the floor. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want to accept that his life could change in a few short seconds.

Gloria's irises whirred, collecting information from skin tone to facial structure to tooth pattern and the color shade of the eyes. Tears kept falling as she read from the display only she could see. "G-genetic match… Almighty T-Tallest Red… and p…prisoner… XA-547."

Riddick stayed rooted to the spot, unmoving, unresponsive.

"Do you know?" Gloria's voice was ragged, barely a whisper. "You were the first hope I had in a very long time?"

"Me?" Riddick asked quietly. "A hope? That's a laugh."

Gloria's heart broke apart. She could hear so many things in those few words. "Yes. You. Hope. Riddick, please, look at me."

He turned to her, staring her full in the face, dead-eyed. Gloria held his gaze, her expression so full of grief and love and brokenness. "Whatever happened after they took you, and whatever you choose now, know that I love you so much. And nothing you've done or could do right now would change that." The words broke loose from a deep place inside. What she had not been ready to say to Zim, what her time with Red softened her to be able to say, she was able to finally give to Riddick.

"Why?" Riddick's lip trembled, one tear slipping down his face. "Why would you love me? I gave up on you. I turned into the villain. I've killed more people than you can count in cold blood. You weren't supposed to be alive for me to care, or make me feel this way." He swiped at his face. "I'm supposed to be the cold, cruel villain, who kills, and who no one cares for anymore, so he doesn't have to care back or feel this way. That's me. That's Riddick." Another tear fell. "I.. I don't feel like Riddick anymore."

"You are Riddick. You just got lost." Her chest ached to be closer to him, but she stays in place. She doesn't want to drive him off. "But Riddick, you found me."

A half-sob escaped the stoic Irken. "What am I supposed to do now?" He asked, almost child-like.

"Come here." Gloria responded immediately, her arms still stretched out. Woodenly, he stumbled over to her, and she pulled him into her arms, holding him close as her hair fell past his face.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Riddick cried. He clutched at her like she was going to disappear any second, and wept. Gloria held him, rocking slightly. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise, I'm right here."

"I'm so sorry," he bawled, "I'm so sorry I gave up on ever finding you… I'm sorry for what I've done... I'm sorry I tried to... I tried to ki—" He couldn't finish, shame choking off the last word.

"Shhhhh, it's all over. You found me, that's all I care about." She pressed her lips to the top of his head, trying to hold back further tears to keep from burning him.

After awhile, Riddick's sobs faded away. Eventually, he let out a long, low groan.

"What is it?" Gloria asked.

Shakily, Riddick answered, "Mommy… I think I may have accidentally driven my brother irreversibly out of his mind…"

Pausing a moment, Gloria rubbed his back. "We'll find something. Maybe Della will know, or Mikko—"

She was cut off by a blood-curdling scream from outside that sounded suspiciously like Tallest Red.

Riddick's head jerked up. "I also just gave up the only insurance I had that I was still on his side when you saw me, and he knows who my father is."

Gloria paled. "That's not why. The one that hired you, did he have yellow eyes?"

"Yes, he did. Always has."

Standing abruptly, she rushed to the window. "If I'm not dead…" She stopped at the window, the rest of the color draining from her face.

…

The second Red left the house, he turned on Gaz. His fear was gone, replaced by a dark rage he couldn't name. "How stupid are you?" He demanded of the inky puddle slinking through the door. "Did you think twice that maybe, maybe you shouldn't bring a murderer to see her? The one that's actively trying to kill her?"

She didn't respond, puddling up against the side of the house, eyes rounded and grieved. _"Mom…"_

"And now, because _you_ brought him here, all our hard work could be gone!" He turned, slammed his fist through the head of one of Zim's gnomes. "Irk will never change! Something will come along and I'll lose myself again! And I'll never find a way to make up for what I did!"

_"Mom…"_

Red's breathing came hard. He would not lose Gloria. He'd already lost Purple and it had been out of his control, but Gloria was right there, and so was that Irken. It was a matter of how and when to strike, that's all. He could calculate the perfect time, when the Irken's back was turned. There were windows, after all. He wouldn't let it happen again.

_"NO!"_

Red spun around, tensed. Gaz's shadowy form was stretched as far away from him as possible, as if trying to flee, but pinned in place by a heavy black boot. Dib stood there, one foot on Gaz, his collar turned up high, shielding his face.

"It's kind of sad, you know, Red." Dib lifted his eyes, glazed yellow. "You could have had a few more centuries of freedom. Relative freedom, of course, but you just had to cross me. Purple crossed me too, though the fool didn't know it."

 _"You can't do this!"_ Gaz flailed away from him. _"How are you doing this, nobody can hold me down!"_

"Who are you?" Red snarled, "What is your part in all this?"

"My part?" Dib sneered. "The question is, what part do _you_ play in _my_ empire, Tallest Red? I have been steering this race for far longer than you can imagine, and I'm not about to lose it all because a rogue Tallest starts having _regrets._ "

A tremor shifted the earth, and Red flung out his arms for balance. A giant metal sphere rolled up the street, turning to flatten Zim's fence before stopping a few feet from Red. Covered in lenses, buttons, and lights, it was instantly recognizable. A Control Brain.

Red turned to Dib, eyes narrow. "So. You've brought the Control Brains to pass judgment on me, is that it?"

"Red, Red, Red," Dib tsked, "What do you take me for? Why would I have a Control Brain pass judgment on you? I don't want you dead." The sphere opened up, revealing an empty cavity inside. "I want you very much alive."

Red's rage gave way to sudden understanding, and mortal terror. He turned on his heel, taking one long stride before the first wire slid out, wrapping around his arm. He jerked forward, but three more wires flung out, catching his other arm, his waist, his leg. He let out a scream and bent almost double wrenching forward as more and more wires began dragging him back.

"It's too bad I didn't get to Purple in time." Dib smirked, watching his struggle. "He would have made a good Control Brain too. Sadly, he picked the easy way out." Dib's grin widened. "You won't have that chance."


	28. A House Divided

"What is that?" Gloria demanded, as Riddick pulled up to the window beside her.

He donned his hat grimly. "That's a Control Brain. They run everything. They're even worse than the Tallests when it comes to Irk being as screwed up as it is."

"And I was supposed to die," Gloria's eyes went from Red, being pulled into the shell of a Control Brain, to Dib, whose back was turned to her. "If I'm not dead…"

Dib turned toward the window, eyes burning yellow. "Then I'll just have to go to the source to ensure the stability of Irk's course, mother dear." Glancing at Riddick, he grinned. "It's too bad you didn't take me seriously, Riddick. I'm about to take you very, very seriously."

Red strained forward, but his footing slipped. The wires, now wrapped around most of his body, dragged him backwards into the shell. They tightened, digging into his PAK, his skin, his skull. His eyes darted up to Gloria's for a moment before the device sealed shut around him.

The house began to shake. Gloria stumbled, grabbing onto the window ledge as Riddick flung his arms out for balance. "NOW what?" He demanded.

"OPERATION KEEPSAFE!" GIR's voice trumpeted from the ceiling speakers as the house rose into the air. The living room TV snapped on, an image of Zim front and center.

"GIR," Zim snapped, "Listen to me. I'm about to give you a very important mission. I don't know if I'm going to win this fight, and if I don't, I have the feeling something very bad might happen. Download this code and it will tell you how to merge with the base. Then take the base, all of it, and make sure everyone is safe. Gloria, Mikko, Tiana, Della, Tom. I assume Tunaghost and Gaz are with me, they'll be able to handle themselves. Take care of them GIR. Don't let Irk find them. And if something goes wrong and you feel it from my PAK, don't let me near them. Keep them safe, GIR."

The image of Zim faded out, replaced by a three dimensional blueprint image of the base as it lifted off the lawn, and four thick, metal tubes sprouted from the bottom and hit the ground like legs. The base bounded down the street, like a dog, away from Dib, Gaz, and the Control Brain.

"For someone who snaps so easily, this wasn't a bad plan," Riddick allowed, helping Gloria keep her balance.

The base screeched to a halt in front of another house. Bending down, it punched a hole through the front with a minor nudge. After the smoke cleared, Della was the first one out, frying pan in hand and swinging.

"Zim!" She screeched. "Is this some kind of joke? It's not funny, and you'd better be ready to fix this by tonight!"

At Riddick's questioning look, Gloria said, "They took him in. They were his family for the last several years."

The front door of the base swung open, allowing wires from the ceiling to pass through and reach out, wrapping around Della. Two more flew in through the hole in the front of the house, pulling out Tom and Tiana. All three were pulled back into the base as the front door shut and locked firmly.

"Already got Mikko," GIR tried to assure Della. "She gonna be mad when she wakes up."

"SHE'S gonna be mad?" Della struggled against the wire, swinging the pan wildly. "What's going on?"

Staring, Riddick asked incredulously, "A frying pan? Really? What can that do?"

"Get over here and I'll give you a sample!" Della ran in place, still held fast.

"Della, get ahold of yourself!" Tom tugged at his wire. "What's going on?"

"HOLD TIGHT!" GIR trumpeted, as the image on the TV screen changed one more time. Wires slipped out to brace Gloria and Riddick as well, as the base compressed, the edges of the squarish building rounding out. The metal tubing tucked in tightly, and the back of the base extended into a large drill. The whole building tilted vertically, the back wall suddenly the floor. The drill roared to life, plunging them deep into the earth.

"I just wanted to let you all know I'm having a terrible time right now," Riddick groaned, "And if I vomit on myself, I blame YOU, talking house."

"You're welcome, Cranky!" GIR responded.

"WHAT IS IT WITH YOU PEOPLE AND NAMES?" Riddick roared.

…..

Somewhere in the belly of the Massive, a new Control Brain was connected to the network under a pair of watchful yellow eyes. The sheer amount of misery pouring off this one would provide decades of power before it ran dry.

Somewhere out in space, a signal hit every satellite around Earth, projecting a message in every language to every receiver. "My mate has been stolen," Tallest Red's voice intoned, "Find who took her, and return her, or your planet will suffer. Kill her kidnappers, or bring them to me." Across every computer and television screen, images flashed. Della, Tom, Mikko, Tiana, Tunaghost, Riddick. There wasn't a civilized corner of the world that did not receive the message. The fate of the world depended on finding Lady Gloria, and making her kidnappers suffer.

Somewhere in the dungeons of the Massive, a young Morflar lay, wrapped in sonic bonds. It was so hard to remember why she was so upset. Her insides ached with hunger, and her body and mind hurt from the restraints. She couldn't think right. Something was important, something purple, but what?

Somewhere, miles above Earth, a large sphere ejected from one of the fleet's smaller flagships. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for a bit of space junk, with its pitted metal surface and broken lenses. But a small glow lit at the back of it, propelling it steadily toward the Earth. With one focus in mind, the broken down Control Brain entered Earth's atmosphere, ready to put an end to what it had begun.

Somewhere in the city, a young woman followed a trail of fearful and wounded witnesses, pointing her east, ever east. When there were no more witnesses, there were peculiar footprints to follow, and scraps of orange cloth. And as the staggered prints became clearer, she finally came upon her quarry, and witnessed the most horrifying thing she'd ever seen.

Somewhere in the hot, flat stretches of abandoned land that lay to the east of the city's outermost limits, a broken, shattered Irken stumbled to a halt, tearing off the last remaining shreds of his orange sweater. Tears streamed down his face in continual streams, but he could not stop laughing. His side had long since stopped bleeding, but what was broken was far deeper than the scalpel could have touched. He flung himself down on the ground and lay there, hour after hour as he grinned up at the sun. As it began sinking toward the horizon, he sat up slowly. His head tilted to the side, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. Abruptly, he threw his head back, laughing again. He raised his hands to the sky and shrieked defiantly, "Anything to keep playing! Make it happen!" And as a blinding flash of green light enveloped him, his voice resounded from the center.

"I AM ZIM!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next and final fic will be called Zaygam.


End file.
